


Unconquered, We Remain

by LillianDeLooney



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Bromance, Confident Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Good With Kids, Discrimination, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Forbidden Love, Full Shift Werewolves, Good Peter Hale, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Imprisonment, Loneliness, M/M, Modern Royalty, Politics, Rich Derek Hale, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Stilinski Family Feels, class differences - freeform, division of wealth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 46,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillianDeLooney/pseuds/LillianDeLooney
Summary: Stiles Stilinski was born and raised in the Bunker, a safe haven for all people who escaped the consequences of Project 6. When more and more shifters start showing up on their land, he is more convinced than ever that the Wolves can't be trusted.Especially not when they carry the last name Hale.





	1. The New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic probably contains the biggest amount of man-love and bromance I have ever written. It just happened okay, I don’t even know. I regret nothing.

 

On June 4th of the year 2176, the scientific solution to the imminent death of the human race – Project 6 – was deemed a success. The news travelled fast and in no time the whole world was brought up to speed. What we didn’t know yet, however, was that this project would change society forever.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_[ Crumpled and coffee-stained front page of The Global Archive – a monthly newspaper that is one of the few printed papers left –  issue of June, 2176:_

_We almost didn’t believe in it anymore, but scientists have finally found a way to protect us against the unknown virus that has been killing people in large quantities all over the world. It is “our only chance at survival”, according to Dr. Dorothy Hale, one of the head scientists working on ‘Project 6’._

_“Something we noticed right away was that the virus only seemed to affect the human population,” she tells us. “After taking a closer look, we discovered that certain animals’ populations showed a sudden increase in size. They became obvious superiors to other animals around their territory, so to speak. We started testing, and after a lot of trial and error, we figured out a way to alter our human DNA by mixing it with specific parts of these animals’ DNA. I am proud to say that the last group of people we tested is now immune to the virus, proving Project 6 a success.”_

_Although immunity to the deadly virus will likely be welcomed by us all, there are going to be drastic changes to society as we know it. Case in point, staying human is not an option. As of next week, governments all around the world will make the DNA treatment obligatory, in an attempt to prevent the human race from dying out completely. Scientists of the project have divided the world in six sections (hence the name), where each section will get a different set of animal DNA._

_For the people who are afraid of turning into a monster, don’t worry: Project 6 scientists have released a statement in which they prove that we’ll still be mostly human, just better. Stronger, faster, smarter … ]_

 

* * *

 

It probably doesn’t come as a surprise that not everyone was pleased about having the choice of staying human taken away from them. There were fights, uproars, riots. After the first round of the DNA treatment was done with, however, people’s attitudes changed. Slowly but surely, they realized that these newly created ‘shifters’ were in fact still mostly human, only turning into a full-shift animal when they actually wanted to. It helped to change the minds of a lot of people, though a select few of us took more … desperate measures to stay 100% human.

 

* * *

 

As was mentioned in the article above, every section of the world now has its own so called ‘Guardian Animal’, each with their own characteristics, strengths and weaknesses.

 

_[ Excerpt of Nora Deaton’s blog on a deeper understanding of the six Guardian Animals:_

_Africa, the lion. The most relentless fighter in the face of life challenges. The lion represents courage, strength and assertiveness. Primary trait: pride._

_Antarctica, the polar bear. The grounding force. The bear represents strength and confidence. It stands against adversity and has great leadership qualities. Primary trait: healing._

_America, the wolf. The power of the wolf brings out instinct, intelligence, and awareness of the importance of social connections. Primary trait: perseverance._

_Asia, the tiger. Emphasis on raw feelings and emotions. The tiger symbolizes primal instincts, unpredictability and the ability to trust oneself. Primary trait: willpower._

_Australia, the dingo. All about family wisdom and hierarchy. The dingo represents taking risks, partnership and respect. Primary trait: mortality._

_Europe, the lynx. Seer of the unseen. The lynx tells us when it’s time for caution and vigilance. It is perceptive, leading to protection on all levels. Primary trait: vigilance. ]_

 

* * *

As time passed, old governments fell and new ones took their places, until at one point each section had their own special type of royalty: a family of shifters to represent them, altogether known as the ‘Guardians’.

Now, roughly thirty years after the start of Project 6, this new society has been fully established all around the world, with not a single human left.

At least, that’s what we want them to believe …

 


	2. The Life and History of Derek Hale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter (up until the horizontal line) is a short account of Derek's life and is purely here for contextual purposes. If you'd rather get into the story immediately, just skip ahead to the horizontal line and read from there :)

 

**Introducing:** Derek Septimus Hale.

 

**Age:** 22

 

**Classification:** _Homo leo_

                                       _Homo maritimus_

X _Homo lupus_

_Homo tigris_

_Homo lupus dingo_

_Homo lynx_

_Homo sapiens_ – _extinct_

**Gender:** Male, beta.

**Family:** Hale; American head of the Guardians.

             Mother: Talia Regina Hale, alpha.

             Father:   Robert Lawson, beta.

             Siblings: Laura Tertia Hale, beta and alpha successor.

                           Cora Octavia Hale, beta.

             Other:    Dr. Dorothy Hale, alpha (grandmother, deceased).

                           Peter Hale, beta (uncle).

 

 

Derek was born to Robert and Talia Hale on November 7th, 2192 as their second child and first and only son. Like his sisters and every other child born to two shifters, he was a born Wolf. He grew up in Portland, Maine, until his grandmother passed her alpha status – and with it her place as American Guardian – to his mother and they had moved to Washington D.C, where he was still living today.

Those first blissful years of his life back in Portland were nothing compared to his life in D.C. In Portland, he had been just another child, living his life like any other kid in America. When his mother became both the alpha and the American head of the Guardians, suddenly everything became about politics. It wasn’t like his mother had started to neglect their family, but … well, she had a lot of new responsibilities. And part of that was looking good in the eye of the public. She had had to become someone that the entire country would be able to look up to, like they had to his grandmother.

As they grew older, he and his sisters had become more involved into politics and the circle of Guardians. Laura, three years his senior, had taken to it like a duck to water. Already, people were talking about how talented an alpha she would be after their mom and what an excellent Guardian she would be one day. Even his little sister Cora – five years younger than him – didn’t seem to have a problem with the spotlight constantly shining on their family. She loved the attention, using it to raise more awareness for whatever charity she decided to support for the month.

Derek himself, though? He often found himself wishing he was back in Maine, where his backyard led directly into the woods, so he could take long runs as a Wolf. Where it was quiet, and peaceful. Where he had been _free_.

Even though every person on the planet was a shifter today, people were expected to stay human in public unless the circumstances ‘asked for shifting’. These ‘circumstances’ pretty much came down to a matter of life or death. One was only allowed to shift at immediate danger. Of course, that was only the full shift. The rules about half-shifts, or beta-shifts as they were also referred to, were less strict. The animal was a part of them and everyone accepted that it just had to come out every now and then.

Still, Derek missed spending time in his full Wolf form. He had always been kind of a loner, especially for a Wolf’s standards. It didn’t mean that he didn’t love to be part of his pack, because he _did_. He was just less of a social animal than he was probably supposed to be.

He had had friends through the years. Yet, he often found that people were more interested in him because of his family and status, then because of him as a person. The same went for any potential love interests. He’d had superficial flings with both men and women, but never had he been able to really make a connection with them that might lead to something more. He wasn’t sure if that was a Wolf thing – they did mate for life, after all – or just something to do with him personally. Either way, he was content to not know the answer yet. He was still young.

As a member of the Guardian family, it had never been a question whether he would go to college or not. He attended Harvard, the university he had chosen mainly for its outstanding library. He recently graduated with a degree in the History of Humanity. One day, he would like to get his Master’s degree and become a historian or anthropologist. Humans fascinated him.

There was one problem, though. As a member of one of the Guardian families, he was expected to stand behind their cause. Before humans were extinct, the Guardians’ cause had been to safe the human race from the virus that threatened to kill them all. Which was ironic, seeing as how there were no actual humans left these days. He guessed that in the eyes of the Guardians and most other people in society, they were all still human, they had just evolved. And they had, in a way, but that didn’t change the fact that they would never know what it truly meant to be ‘human’. That was what made the actual humans so interesting to Derek.

Regardless, the Guardian’s cause today was to keep up the mostly peaceful society they’d built together. There was not a single war going anymore. People all around the world were at peace. Every family had its own territory, though usually families shared one, like Derek’s family did back in Portland. If for some reason people wanted to expand their territory, they negotiated. If that didn’t lead to anything, they would step up to the Guardians to solve the matter.

Knowing what he knew about society before Project 6, he sometimes couldn’t believe that there weren’t more conflicts, but it looked like with the addition of their animal sides, the humans’ lust for power and destruction just kind of settled. Either way, what mattered most to him was that it worked.

The point here was that for a member of the Guardians, it didn’t make much sense to have an interest in the ‘old’ humans. They didn’t exist any longer and he should be focusing on how to prevent mistakes humans made in the past from happening again in the future. That was not what he was interested in, though. He would do anything for a chance to talk to an actual human just once.

Besides devouring every book and source on the internet he could find on humans and their history, he liked to spend his time hiking or playing basketball, preferably outdoors. Unfortunately, he was often summoned to the White House, where the American Guardian’s Headquarters were stationed. Even though Derek was the least interested in politics out of his siblings, he was still valuable to the cause and he was admittedly happy to help out his family.

Yet when he did get the chance to go hiking, he liked to stay out until dark and find a secluded and quiet place where he could be alone for a while. There he would sit back and look up at the sky, covered in stars and stretching out endlessly into the universe, like countless humans loved to do before him.

 And he would sit there, thinking about what his life would have been like as one of them, then sigh dejectedly as he inevitably realized that it would be forever too late to find out.

 

* * *

 

 

_June, 2214._

 

Derek understands a lot of things. He’s a smart man, he even has a college degree to prove it. Nonetheless, there are just some things that he is unable to wrap his head around. Like why in the world his sisters keep insisting he joins them for social stuff he literally has _zero_ interest in.

“Come _on_ , Derek,” his younger sister Cora leans against the side of his chair, half hanging over his shoulder, her eyes big and imploring. “I promise that you’ll like it.”

It’s a struggle to refrain from rolling his eyes. “That’s what you said the last four times.”

“Well, this time I’m absolutely positive.”

Derek does roll his eyes then, while his older sister Laura – leaning against his bedroom door – is stifling her laughter at Cora’s determination.

“Besides,” Cora lightly smacks his shoulder, “It’s not like you have anything better to do.” She eyes the book he’s holding with disdain.

He frowns. “It’s a classic.”

“Yeah, from more than 200 years ago.”

“Just because _Lord of the Flies_ was written a long time ago, doesn’t mean it’s not a good read.” He sits up, turning so he can look at her directly. “In fact, it’s very interesting to read how the behaviour of the old humans – ”

“Ugh, you and your ‘old humans’,” Cora throws up her hands. “They don’t exist anymore, Der. Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’m just fascinated by them.”

“And that’s okay,” Laura steps further into the room. “But it wouldn’t hurt to show some more interest in the new humans. You know, your friends. Your pack?”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“Great!” Cora claps her hands together in excitement. She carefully takes the book – fragile from how much he’s read it – out of his hands and lies it on a small table to the side, then holds out her hands to pull him out of his chair.

“Thanks for coming, Der-bear.” She kisses his cheek. “You’re going to love it, just you wait.”

He smiles at her sweet enthusiasm and gives her a brief hug, just because. “I’m sure I will.”

It’s a lie, but it’ll keep his sisters happy. They mean well. They probably just want to include him in more pack stuff, because they feel like he can be somewhat of an outsider. Which is true, he just doesn’t mind as much as they think he does. He’s honestly pretty okay with it. It’s almost funny how almost everyone seems to think that being alone and being lonely are the same things when to him, they really aren’t.

Being alone is something he enjoys.  Being _lonely_ , on the other hand, would be a completely different story. It would be like a gaping hole in his chest. He imagines it’s much like being an omega; a wolf without a pack.

The problem is that ‘being alone’ shouldn’t be a positive thing to a Wolf either. They are pack creatures, born to thrive in a group.

Then again, he has always been a little different. He’s never really been the social animal he is supposed to be as a Wolf. Somehow he’s just kind of a loner and honestly, he’s okay with that. He’s not unhappy. Yet there’s just something missing in his life as he’s currently living it. If only he knew what.

He blinks and jerks his head back when Laura flails a hand in his face to get his attention.

“Earth to Derek.” He bats her hand away, making her laugh and drag him along by the arm.

They reach his car, a sleek, beautiful thing his parents bought him when he turned sixteen. He still gets a rush of pride and satisfaction every time he sees it. Like every car today, it runs on electricity. The four wheels that cars used to have in the past have long been replaced by a system riding on electromagnetic currents, gliding across the road so smoothly, it feels like driving on air. Just like the fur of his Wolf’s coat, the car is a vivid black colour.

He gets behind the wheel and programs it to drive them to Guardian’s Village Green, a large public park at the edge of the city _._ He sits back, grateful that the cars of today drive themselves, even though there is still a steering wheel in front of him in case he has to take over.

Cora precedes them to a small gathering close to the pond once they’ve arrived at the park. Like every time Derek comes here, he takes a moment to bask in the beauty of it all. The air always smells so fresh and pure here, going through his lungs with a pleasurable tingle. There’s a light breeze tickling his skin, and everything is clean, with ample greenery to complete the picturesque scenery.

As he’s learned from his studies, their environment looks vastly different from the one in the past, where people lived in chaos and disorder. Where cluttered pavements and vandalism were considered _normal_. Thank God that he never had to live in a world like that, instead living in a place where the material of roads and pavements can clean itself. The same goes for the surfaces of houses and other buildings in the city, most of them built from a chrome-like, high-tech material.

Guardian’s Village Green doesn’t just serve as a place to enjoy nature today, but also as the location for a small fundraiser Cora has had a hand in. He doesn’t care much for this type of social event, but he can’t help but feel proud of his baby sister whenever she makes an effort for projects like these.

Nearly as soon as the speeches are over and they are given the all-clear to mingle and socialize, people surround him and his sisters for a quick chat. What is it about famous people that makes other people so interested in them? Just because he was born a Hale, doesn’t mean he’s any different. He wished his sisters shared his sentiment.

An elderly couple is currently talking with him and Laura about his sister being the alpha successor. She preens when they express their faith in her, telling her how well the role of American Guardian will suit her. Derek doesn’t disagree. She really was born for it.

“So what about you, Derek?” the man asks, turning to him. “Are you going to be your sister’s second in command when the time comes? Would you be ready to take on her role in case something happened to her?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, hoping the man will drop the topic.

Laura gives his shoulder a quick squeeze, smiling reassuringly. “Derek will do whatever he feels is the right thing to do.”

He loves the way she phrased that, like she’s willing to let him choose his own path even though she’d rather see him following in their mother’s. Apparently it’s satisfactory to the elderly couple as well, because they thank them for their time and move along.

The rest of the evening is rather uneventful, though he’s glad his sisters seem to be having a good time at least. They get back home about an hour before dinner and hang out in the family room for a bit, where they’ve spent most of their time in the house ever since they moved in.

Laura and Cora lean against each other on the couch, watching some TV show they are both completely hung up on, while Derek himself picks up his tablet. He unlocks it and activates the voice-recognition system on the holographic display, ordering the device to find the article he’d started reading last night.

“Hey there, kiddos.”

He lifts his head, meeting his uncle’s eyes from across the room with a smile. The man often randomly pops up at their house, even though he has an apartment of his own. It’s always fun when he visits, though.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you stop calling us kids, uncle P?” Cora stands up and goes in for a hug.

“Pft, no.” He waves her comment away. “Then I’d have to admit to myself that I’m getting old, my Wolf would claim it’s time to find a mate, settle down, the whole shebang. Now where would that leave me?”

“Oh, I don’t know Peter,” he tilts his head, smirking at the man. “Maybe family life will suit you.”

Laura barely lasts two seconds before she snorts loudly and the rest of them join in her laughter. Peter is a social creature alright, but settling down with someone isn’t something he’ll do anytime soon. He’s too much of a Casanova for that to happen.

"Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” Peter shakes his head. “Anyway, I ran into your mother downstairs and she asked me to remind you of the conference in two weeks.”

Derek shares a look with Laura, rolling his eyes. Like they could ever forget.

“We remember,” Laura sighs. “She’s getting way too stressed about this.”

Peter nods. “True, but she knows how important the annual conference is to the Guardian community. She just wants it to be perfect.”

“With all the work she’s put into it, it definitely will be.” He shifts in his seat. “Laura and I will do whatever we can to help her.”

“Is that a promise?”

He frowns. “Yes?”

Peter smirks and Derek immediately regrets everything he just said.

“Good, because your mother would love for you to receive the guests at the conference and make sure everyone on the list is actually attending.”

He groans, slumping in his chair like a petulant child. “Why?”

“To let people see you support her and the family.”

“I do,” he huffs. “I just don’t think making me the first person the other Guardians will interact with is a good idea.”

“You’ll be fine,” Laura smiles at him. “Mom wouldn’t ask you to do it if she didn’t trust you to do a good job.”

Peter nods at her. “This is why you’re the alpha successor, kiddo.”

Laura grins proudly and strikes up a conversation with him about her speech at the conference. She’s been looking forward to this thing almost as much as their mother. It’s an annual occasion, with a different host each year, where all the Guardians come together and talk about the stuff going on in their section of the world and the plans they have for it. This year, their mother is the host of the event and therefore the other Guardians and part of their families will travel to America to meet them. Derek is not a big fan.

He goes back to the article he’s been reading on his tablet, an interesting read about technological progress in the past 200 years. Even though a lot of things have changed, some have survived centuries of progress. Sure, there are new and better electronic devices, cars running on electricity instead of gasoline, more sustainable energy sources. But things like the internet haven’t changed all that much.

Even printed sources still exist, though a lot of people apparently expected them to vanish with time. He’s glad they’re still here, though, because it’s nice to have something tangible in his hands sometimes, rather than just online articles. It’s nicer to preserve too … but maybe that’s just his inner historian talking.

His smartphone chimes – another thing left from 200 years ago, though of course now they are infinitely better than they used to be – and he reaches a hand in his jeans’ pocket to get it out.

It’s a message from Isaac, one of his few (and best) friends, asking if he wants to go kayaking this weekend. He smiles and quickly sends his reply.

**[Count me in]**

He gets Isaac’s reaction a few seconds later:

**[Nice! Looking forward to seeing you again, man!]**

See? He can be social.

If only he could convince his Wolf it is enough.

 


	3. Derek: Doubts

Sometimes Derek wishes he had the ability to manipulate time. Or travel through time, he isn’t picky. The point is that he would give a lot if it meant being able to skip to the end of this weekend, because whether he likes it or not, it’s conference time.

His mother had woken him and Laura up early – not Cora, she doesn’t have to attend the conference yet – to help with preparations for the event. Unlike two weeks ago, she doesn’t seem stressed at all, but ready to do her thing. He just wishes she’d start doing it at a later time, because it is so not necessary to wake him and Laura at the ass-crack of dawn when the other Guardians won’t even arrive until late afternoon.

Try telling that to his mother, though.

In any case, because he’s a grown man and has enough discipline to not pathetically beg for ‘five more minutes’, he gets out of bed and starts his morning routine. He has a quick breakfast with his mother and Laura, before they head off to the White House.

As much as he used to dislike moving from Portland to Washington D.C. as a kid, he’s glad they didn’t actually start living in the White House itself, like old presidents used to do before Project 6. He would probably go insane if he’d be surrounded by politics around the clock. Their house – which, honestly, is more of a mansion – is still of immense proportions, but at least it gives them the illusion of a somewhat normal life.

The first half of the day goes by pretty fast, with him and the rest of his mother’s team working hard and only taking a break for lunch, where Cora and his father join them briefly. Eventually the time comes for everyone to take their positions and prepare for the welcoming of the Guardians and their entourage.

Derek really doesn’t understand why they made him the one to receive the guests. It’s not like a computer couldn’t do it, the same way they are programmed to do a lot of other jobs these days that used to be done by humans once upon a time. These computers are often jokingly called _Mandroids,_ androids programmed and created to do a human’s work. Most people have at least one of them to help them with stuff like running the household.

He looks at the guest list in front of him with a sigh. The entire first page is dedicated to the actual Guardians and their personal information.

 

_Name: Talia Regina Hale, Guardian of America._

_Gender: Female, alpha._

_Age: 47_

_Classification: Homo lupus._

_Residence: Washington D.C._

_Bio: Head of American Guard for 12 years. Specialized in behavioural science. Mated. Hostess of this year’s conference._

_Name: Satomi Ito, Guardian of Asia._

_Gender: Female._

_Age: 62_

_Classification: Homo tigris.  
_

_Residence: Tokyo, Japan._

_Bio: Head of Asian Guard for 25 years. Specialized in economics. Unmated._

_Name: Christopher Argent, Guardian of Europe._

_Gender: Male._

_Age: 43_

_Classification: Homo lynx._

_Residence: Brussels, Belgium._

_Career: Head of European Guard for 6 years. Specialized in international law. Mated._

_Name: Nanuq Okpik, Guardian of The Arctic._

_Gender: Male._

_Age: 38_

_Classification: Homo maritimus._

_Residence: Nunavik, Quebec._

_Career: Head of (Ant)arctican Guard for 9 years. Specialized in biomedical science. Unmated._

_Name: Owen Anderson, Guardian of Australia._

_Gender: Male, alpha._

_Age: 51_

_Classification: Homo lupus dingo._

_Residence: Sydney._

_Career: Head of Australian Guard for 17 years. Specialized in ‘human’ geography. Mated._

_Name: Nasira Nnamani, Guardian of Africa._

_Gender: Female._

_Age: 31_

_Classification: Homo leo._

_Residence: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia._

_Career: Head of African Guard for 3 years. Specialized in political science and public administration. Unmated._

It’s nothing he doesn’t know already, nor is it anything he particularly cares about, but for some reason his mother’s team apparently thought it was important to list all their information for him. That was just the first page, though. He takes a look at the second page and is happy to see that he and Laura aren’t the only members of the Guardians from the younger generation who are present this weekend.

This younger generation is listed under ‘protégés’. Him and Laura are at the top of the list, then it goes on with the other protégés who travelled across the world to be here the next couple of days. He’s happy to see Misumi and Ramses on the list. Of all the young adults in attendance, he’s most friendly with the two of them. Others … well, he wouldn’t say there was any hostility between them, but he can’t help but grimace when his eyes land on Kate Argent’s information.

They kissed _once_ – or, well, made out a little – a few years ago and she’s been flirting shamelessly with him ever since. That first, and if he has anything to say about it _last_ , kiss was four years ago at the first Guardian conference he attended. He’d been eighteen at the time and had thought it was pretty cool that an older woman was interest in him. Now, at 22, he thinks it’s kind of creepy.

Especially because she has a hard time taking no for an answer, even though he blows her off _every single year._

Part of him hopes that she just won’t try anything this year, but deep down he knows that there’s no way she’ll give up that easily. She doesn’t like losing. Suffice it to say that she doesn’t like not getting what she wants.

Which is unfortunate, because he really isn’t into her.

He sighs. There’s not much he can do about it and since he is welcoming them at the door, he has no chance of avoiding her like he normally would. He guesses he just has to man up and face her. He’s a wolf, damn it. He can do this.

 

* * *

 

He was wrong.

He really can’t do this. Kate is being downright insufferable and, as he expected, won’t even consider taking no for an answer.

“You know, Derek,” she trails the tip of her finger down his arm. Ew. “We only have one weekend a year together. At some point you’re going to have to stop playing cat and mouse with me and just admit that you’re into me, too.”

He rolls his eyes and barely refrains from heaving a deep sigh.

“Kate, for the last time, I’m _not_ interested.”

“Honey,” she tuts, crowding even closer against him and tightening her grip on his arm, “I have been very patient with you, but even I have my limits.”

He shakes her hand off with a sharp shrug of his shoulder and sends her a glare. She’s a beautiful woman, yes, but other than that there just really isn’t much about her that appeals to him. She’s dominant, manipulative, vigilant and unfortunately, quite smart.

Except when it comes to Derek, it seems.

He’s growing so annoyed with her that he’s ready to take more serious measures, but halts when a young woman enters the room in a hurry, looking apologetically in his direction.

“ _Tante Kate!_ ” she calls.

Huh, French. This must be Chris’ daughter then. He takes a quick glance at his list and finds out her name; Allison.

She exchanges a string of words with Kate in rapid French that Derek has no chance of understanding, then smiles at him when she catches him watching.

“I’m sorry Derek, we’ll let you go back to your work,” she says in English this time, her French accent not nearly as heavy as he expected it to be.

Then she all but drags her aunt away, sending him another sweet smile and mouthing ‘sorry’. He makes a mental note to thank her later.

It’s a couple of minutes before the other Guardian’s arrive with their entourage. He shakes hands, accepts praise for him or his family, and shows them where to find the conference room and other facilities they might want to use.

A genuine smile breaks out on his face when he spots the African Guard enter the building. He greets Nasira first, with a handshake and some formal words, but then he grins and lets her younger brother Ramses drag him in a friendly hug. The two of them have bonded over the few years Derek has been attending the conferences and he’s happy to be able to call the young man his friend.

“Derek!” Ramses [claps] him on the back. “It has been too long, my friend.”

They would both like more time to catch up, but Nasira gently points out that they’re here for business. Derek chuckles and leads them to the conference room to meet with his mother.

In the hour that follows, he welcomes the remaining part of the Guardians and to be honest, the overall experience wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be beforehand. He even made plans with Misumi – Satomi’s daughter – to go out for drinks later that night with Ramses and some of the other protégés over 21.

His mother finds him before she starts the official opening.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she says. “I’m proud of you.”

He frowns. “For what?”

“For making an effort.” She gently squeezes the back of his neck, scent-marking him. “You may not believe me when I tell you this, but these people actually like you a lot. The Guardian community really sees potential in you. They’re even talking about giving you a more important position.” She shrugs. “You don’t have to decide right away, but it’s something to consider.”

“Right,” he nods, smiling back at her.

He really hopes she isn’t tuned in to his heartbeat or smell, because her proposition makes his throat constrict and his head swim.

Something to consider.

 

* * *

 

The remaining part of the conference went by relatively fast. Day one was mostly spent on catching up with the current affairs in every Guardian’s section and of course, catching up with one another. Even though they are primarily coming together to discuss politics, the Guardians have established somewhat of a feeling of family in their community.

Day two was dedicated to future plans for the world and society as a whole – the main focus keeping the peace and safety they have established – but also a look into the far future of the Guardians themselves, where the next generation got the chance to present themselves.

He may be biased, but he really thought Laura’s speech was one of the best.

It’s just that hearing her talk about the cause of the Guardians, the passion she has for it … it’s no wonder everyone has such high hopes for her. She truly was born for this.

Now, a week later – most of the Guards and their entourage having left the country already – he should be glad it’s over and done with and go back to his day-to-day life.

He should, but he can’t.

He can’t, for the simple reason that he keeps thinking of what his mother had said to him that first day of the conference. The possibility of him getting a more important position in the community. Getting into politics for real.

She told him to _consider_ it, which probably means she will be okay with whatever decision he makes on the topic, but something about the way she had looked at him, the tone she used, makes him think that deep down she really wants him to take the job. Whatever it may entail.

So Derek is hiking right now. He simply needed to get out of the house for a while, away from … honestly he doesn’t even know from what. He just needs some time alone. Some time to think.

He follows one of his regular routes, heading for the secluded area where he likes to come at night to stargaze every once in a while. When he gets there, he lies down on the soft grass and gazes at the clear blue sky.

With a sigh, he folds his arms behind his head, using them as a pillow. Not for the first time, he thinks of how different he is. Or maybe, when you take a closer look at it, it isn’t so much that he’s different, but rather that he doesn’t see things the same way as his family. Or other Wolves, for that matter.

See, part of a Wolf’s forte is recognizing the importance of social connections. It isn’t like Derek can’t see them, but as a Wolf he should feel at his best whenever he’s surrounded by people of his kind.

Yet instead, he keeps trying to get away from those people to be on his own. As he is doing right now.

Does that make him a failure as a wolf? He huffs, annoyed with himself for even having the thought. Just because he’s a little different, doesn’t mean he’s defective. His family still loves him as much as they do his sisters, and other people accept him for who he is as well.

It’s not like he isn’t okay with being a Wolf in general, either. He likes being a Wolf, loves the instincts and perseverance that come with it.

The problem is that people are expecting him to choose a future right now. Preferably a future in politics, like the rest of his family, even though no one has said it that strongly to his face. He knows that is what would make the people around him happiest. And who knows, maybe he’ll like it too.

On the other hand, maybe he wouldn’t like it at all. When he thought about the future before, politics had never been a big part of it. So could he take the job his mother is offering and still be happy with his life?

He just really doesn’t know and that, more than anything, scares him, because it makes him have doubts about his life and how he wants to live it.

It makes him doubt _himself_.

 

* * *

 

He meets up with Isaac later that day at a basketball court close to where the guy lives.

They play languidly, taking a shot at the basket and then simply passing the ball to have a turn. Nothing fanatic, like they generally tend to do.

Derek’s lingering doubts may have something to do with that.

Isaac doesn’t mention how out of it he looks at first, though Derek can tell he’s caught on to it. It’s things like this that make Isaac such a good friend. He doesn’t push Derek to talk about stuff he isn’t ready to talk about yet, trusting that he’ll open up eventually if he needs to.

He isn’t sure he will today, but it is comforting to know that if he does open his mouth, Isaac will be ready to listen to whatever comes out.

Pushing his doubts and negative thoughts to the back of his mind, he steals the ball from the other man and grins, challenging him to a more energetic game.

“Best two out of three?”

Isaac smirks cockily. “Your funeral.”

When they’ve finished their little game – Isaac won; he’s not pissy about it – they sit down on a bench to the side of the basketball court, sweaty and panting. The physical exertion never bothers him much, though.

He takes a water bottle out of the small gym bag he brought and takes a sip. When he lowers the bottle from his lips, he catches Isaac staring at him, one of his eyebrows raised.

Remember when he said Isaac didn’t push? Pushing while trying to be subtle apparently falls in a different category in his best friend’s book. He meets Isaac’s eyes, lifting an eyebrow of his own.

“What?”

The guy just keeps looking at him, stare unwavering. Damn it, he’s good at this.

Derek sighs. “Fine.”

Isaac’s stare finally breaks and his face melts into an easy smile, encouraging him to start talking. And Derek does.

He tells him about the job offer his mother propositioned him with, about the Guardian community apparently having certain expectations of him he only recently found out about. He admits that he doesn’t know if he wants to take it, but that part of him is willing to give it a try. Maybe he’ll discover some secret talent for politics he didn’t know he had.

“What about your degree, though? I thought you wanted to do more research on humans, find out more about their culture and stuff?”

Sometimes Derek really hates that Isaac knows him so well. Like so many others, he doesn’t really understand his passion for the old humans, but he is one of the people most accepting of it.

“I do.” He shrugs. “But maybe I could keep doing that on the side and take the job, see if it’s something for me. I like the thought of contributing to the peace and safety of the world.”

Isaac takes a moment to think it over in his head, then gives him one of those looks again. “Can you see yourself doing this for the rest of your life, though? Do you even want to?”

And that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?

_Does_ he?

 

 


	4. The Life and History of Stiles Stilinski

**Introducing:**  Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski.

 

**Age:** 18

 

**Classification:**                       _Homo leo_

                                            _Homo maritimus_

_Homo lupus_

_Homo tigris_

_Homo lupus dingo_

_Homo lynx_

   X _Homo sapiens_ – _~~extinct~~_

**Gender:** Male.

 

**Family:** Stilinski; Head of human council (state of Maine).

            Father: John Stilinski.

            Mother: Claudia Muller (deceased).

            Siblings: none.

            Other:    none.

 

**History:**

 

Stiles was born to John and Claudia Stilinski on April 8th, 2196 as their first and only child. Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, he and a small group of ‘pure’ humans live in a large underground bunker deep inside the woodland of the uninhabited part of the state of Maine. Together, they have formed their own secret community for the past 28 years and call themselves the Human Resistance. Even though they’ve never had any contact with other clusters of humans, they are positive that they can’t be the only ones who went into hiding to survive after the launch of Project 6.

Stiles was born and raised here, living in hiding and with few resources. It’s rough, living with the Resistance, but their children are taught early on that that is the price you pay for staying human. Rules are necessary and need to be obeyed to preserve order and avoid chaos. They simply can’t afford to live any other way.

Although the bunker of the Human Resistance – ‘HR’ for short – is large enough, it is in no way luxurious. Sure, it is four stories deep and reachable with both stairs and an elevator. They have everything they need to take care of basic needs; a kitchen, bedrooms and dormitories, bathrooms, and even running water. So space really isn’t the problem. The problem is that they can’t simply go to a grocery store to get their food. They can’t go to _any_ store to buy or replace whatever they need. And God knows they fucking _need_.

Thanks to one paranoid doomsday prepper, the bunker had a large stock of basic things like toilet paper when the first humans got here, all carefully put away in an immense storage room on the third floor down. There was also a wide range of canned foods and other non-perishables, and enough blankets to warm a small army. However, almost thirty years have passed and the numbers of their group are still increasing, which means they had to get creative.

They provide some of their own food by hunting for it in the large stretch of dense forest above the bunker. Inside, down on the first level from the outer entrance, is an immense greenhouse where they grow fruits and vegetables, plus some other useful herbs and plants. On the same floor are the butchery where they bring the meat from each hunt, the ‘hospital’ and an improvised little textile factory. Even with the extra work they put in to feed all 84 of them, it is still very far from ideal.

On the second floor from the top are the so-called ‘basics’ located: the kitchen, living room, study room, play room, and a bathroom. One level lower is where the storage room is located, plus the gunroom, control room, another bathroom and the Council Office, which is where the HR leaders have their meetings. Every group of workers has one representative.

The workers at HR are divided into eight groups plus the council. First come the Hunters, who provide the meat and act as soldiers if the need arises, since they are the only ones allowed and capable enough to use weapons. Then come the Doctors, who – again thanks to the doomsday prep guy, have a room that serves as a hospital, with equipment and all. Of course they don’t have any outstanding materials, but it’s enough to patch up their wounded if necessary.

After the Hunters and the Doctors come the Farmers and the Cooks. The Farmers are all the people working at the greenhouse, which is most of them. They are simply the ones that need the most hands. Then come the Fixers – who are basically their handymen – and the Stylists. It’s somewhat of an inside joke, since the clothes they are all wearing would make any actual stylist burst into tears, but they are the ones that repair clothes and such. They even make some new ones whenever they can in the improvised factory on the first floor, using the cotton plants in the greenhouse or other material they manage to get their hands on.

The remaining two groups of workers are the Teachers and the Cleaners. The Cleaners are responsible for all the cleaning and laundry. The Teachers are pretty much the odd ones out. They don’t have access to books or the internet, like the shifters do. The only books they have are the ones people brought with them when they came here. Of course, most of those are terribly outdated by now. Therefore, they mostly try to stick to teaching the kids the basic things, like how to read, write and count or calculate. Most of what the kids are taught about the outside world, is taught through stories.

And finally, on the fourth floor down, are the bedrooms and their last two bathrooms. In case of an imminent threat, this also functions as the evacuation floor.

To an outsider, growing up here would probably be seen as horrifying and wrong. For Stiles, however, it has never been anything more than the way of life. Simple as that. Besides, it’s hard to wish for something better when you don’t even know what you’re missing.

When Stiles was around three years old, his father was elected as council member as the Hunters’ representative. One year later he became the Head of the Council and he has been in that position ever since. Even though he is very proud of his dad for being such a strong member of society, he sometimes wishes it came with more benefits. Stiles’ father might be a well-respected councilmember, but it surely doesn’t make Stiles any more popular with the kids his own age. The only thing he got out of it is high expectations from everyone around him, encouraging him to follow in his father’s footsteps. Not that he would mind that particularly, he would just prefer it if people realized he is a completely different person than his dad. They may want and believe in the same things, but use entirely different means to reach their goals.

Stiles was twelve years old when his mother died, a moment that was very tough to deal with. Not just for him and his dad, but also for the rest of HR. She’d been friendly with everyone and no one ever seemed to be able to dislike her. She also had a big influence on the existence of HR in the first place. She was seen as a hero by many. Even now, six years later, Stiles doesn’t want to talk about it. It only makes him fucking angry.

Although he is a pretty social person and is friendly enough with the kids his own age, he isn’t really close friends with anyone. Not like some of them are, anyway. Lydia and Erica for instance, are what he would call real friends instead of just friendly. Together with Jackson and Boyd – their boyfriends – they form a pretty tight group at HR. Regarding the topic of romance, he once had a brief thing with Malia, but that never really grew into anything serious.

Probably a good thing too, because anything serious would have inevitably ended up in sex and HR’s condom supply is scarce to say the least. The council strongly suggests thinking twice before participating in anything of a sexual nature, though it isn’t against the law. They _are_ human, after all.

From the moment he turned eighteen, he has worked with his dad and the other Hunters and he enjoys it immensely. Before his birthday, he’d worked with Finstock – or Coach, as some of them call him -  at the Farmers, like most teenagers do. It’s not all that exciting, but it beats the Cleaners, so they don’t complain. Anyway, he loves that he can actually go _outside_ now. You don’t exactly realize how suffocating it can be underground until you’ve seen the outside world with your own eyes. The first time he saw it, he was twelve years old, burying his mother. He remembers temporarily forgetting his sadness as he saw the brightness of the sky for the first time, the scale of greens of the trees. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. Another positive is that he used to be quite skinny, but since he’s been allowed to join the hunting crew he’s gained some more muscle, his shoulders broadening and finally growing into his body in general.

But what he loves most about the outside is the sky at night. There’s a little Hunter’s hideout where they keep watch sometimes, or where they hide before attacking a wild animal. Sometimes he slips out at night to go there, lies down and just watches the universe stretch out infinitely above him. He can look at the stars for hours. Sometimes, when he sees a shooting star, he wishes he could go and explore the rest of the world. Beautiful as it may be, he longs to see more than just this bit of Maine woodland.

He knows that’s not an option, though. The only reason they can even hunt outside is because they are so far away from inhabited land. The first city of shifters is miles away and there’s a very slim chance of anyone ever finding them out here. Still, they have to remain close to the bunker, because if one of the Wolves does wander into their woods and smells them ... Stiles doesn’t like to think about what might happen then. So his small world at HR will have to be enough.

He can wish all he wants, but he and everyone else here knows that there is no way that his dreams will ever come true.

 

* * *

 

 

_June, 2214_

Like every morning in the bunker, Stiles is woken up by the sound of the morning alarm. They call this one 7-A, designed to get everyone’s asses out of bed. Its counterpart, A-22, goes off every night to order them back to bed. No talking is allowed between A-22 and 7-A. Not that it’s ever stopped anyone from whispering, but at least it’s quiet enough to sleep.

He groans and drags a hand across his face, slowly sitting up in his bed. He puts his hands above his head and stretches, sighing happily. Ever since his eighteenth birthday, he’s had his own bedroom. All the years before were spent in one of the two dormitories with the other kids under eighteen. Now though, he finally has his own space. Normally, bedrooms are shared between two people, but all the other ones were already fully occupied, so he got one of his own and it will stay that way until someone else reaches the magical age of eighteen.

He picks up his clothes – one of the two sets he owns, consisting of a worn grey Henley and simple pair of jeans – and heads for the bathroom. There’s two of them on this floor, one for the men and one for the women. He goes to the right and joins the line in front of the men’s room.

“Morning, Cole,” he greets the man standing in line before him.

The man turns around and smiles when his eyes meet Stiles’.

“Morning, buddy,” Cole nods. “You ready for another hunting day?”

Cole Vermont is a fellow Hunter. The guy is in his early twenties and was the newbie-hunter until Stiles joined the crew a few months ago. As is tradition, the last newbie gets to train the new recruit and is pretty much responsible for him or her until they can hold their own out in the woods. It has been a couple of months since Stiles joined and it became clear very quickly that he inherited his dad’s knack for hunting, so Cole basically just lets him go his own way, trusting him to do his job well.

He nods and grins. “Ready as I always am.”

“Good,” Cole says. “You’ll need to be.”

Stiles frowns. “Why’s that?”

“Didn’t your dad tell you?”

It must be clear on his face that Stiles has no idea what the man is talking about, because a moment later the man smirks and starts to explain.

“We’re getting a new recruit today.”

“We are?” he asks, mentally going through potential candidates, but coming up short. “Who is it?”

Cole shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He shuffles forwards a few steps when the line moves along.

When it’s finally his turn, he uses the bathroom to take a quick shower and relieves his bladder. The soap they use is pretty much scentless, but it at least serves well to clean them. The somewhat milky substance is made by Alan Deaton, who is the representative for the Doctors. The guy is genius in biology as well as chemistry and probably some other stuff Stiles doesn’t even know about.

After his turn in the bathroom, he takes the stairs to the kitchen on the second floor and gets in line for breakfast. Luckily, this one moves a lot faster than the one for the bathroom did and soon he finds himself in front of Mrs Boyd, representative of the Cooks. She’s a strong, big woman and everyone knows not to mess with her. Her son Vernon (call me Boyd) and Erica Reyes are helping her in the kitchen this morning and are still cooking more breakfast, it looks like.

She thrusts a plate in his hands and waves her hand to move him along, preventing him from holding up the line any longer with his daydreaming.

“Go eat your breakfast, kid,” she sighs and goes on with her work.

He takes the plate and quickly does as he’s told, taking a seat at one of the long, wooden tables placed around the room. He finally takes a moment to look at what exactly is on his plate this morning, though he knows there’s never been much variation in meals.

There’s a slice of bread, a piece of toast and an apple, plus one glass of milk to drink. Not much for a boy his age, but he knows better than to be ungrateful for the food he gets. The milk, especially, is a treat. They have a small bunch of goats and chickens, kept in a makeshift shed outside, hidden from sight.

After breakfast it’s time for work and he descends the stairs to the gunroom, where the Hunting crew meets up every morning. There are two shifts; one in the morning and one in the afternoon. They generally work one shift for the entire week and change to the other for the entirety of the next. In some circumstances, they’re allowed to trade shifts with someone else, though that always needs to be approved by his dad.

Stiles has the morning shift this week. Since there are two shifts, the Hunting crew is divided in two teams as well. His crew consists of seven of the fourteen people, eight when you count the new recruit they get today. Cole is part of it, of course. Then there’s Braeden, a bad-ass young woman who used to be Cole’s mentor. There’s him and his dad, obviously. The remaining three Hunters,  Morris, Aron and Bono, are all in their thirties or early forties.

His dad, unsurprisingly, is already there when Stiles walks up. It’s like the man never sleeps sometimes. It kind of worries him, but he trusts his dad enough to let him take care of himself. Doesn’t mean Stiles will stop keeping an eye on him, though.

He’s dragged out of his thoughts when Braeden calls him.

“Hey Wonderboy!”

He blushes at the praise, but tries to hide it by throwing a charming smile in her direction.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and smiles. “Big day today, huh?”

“Apparently,” he nods, sending a half-hearted glare to his dad, who just shrugs and grins. “So who is it?”

His dad doesn’t say anything, just keeps grinning and points at a spot over Stiles’ shoulder. He turns around and gapes, his mouth falling open in astonishment.

“Malia?”

She gives him a short wave and shrugs. “Hey Stiles.”

Seriously, how did he not know about this? He never knew she was interested in becoming a Hunter. When did she even turn eighteen?

See this? This is probably why he doesn’t have any friends. If he did, he would know shit like this.

“Welcome to the Hunters, Malia,” his dad greets her with a nod.

“Thank you, Sir. It’s an honour.”

They wait a few more minutes until they are complete and then pick out their weapons for the day. Even though it’s called the _gun_ room, they have surprisingly few guns. His dad, as Head of the Council, is the only one who always has a gun on him. Outside they don’t use guns at all, in fear of alerting the wolves. So their weapons are slightly more primitive. There are spears, knives, bows and arrows, stuff like that. Stiles himself is best with a knife, so he never goes outside without a set of throwing knives.

He doesn’t make such a good Hunter merely for his throwing skills, though. He’s fast and agile, able to do his job on the ground as well as up in the trees. He’s good with his hands, too and is often the one who helps make the traps and snares.

Like he said, he has a knack for the hunt. It’s an amazing way to spend his days. Makes him feel useful. Needed. Like he means something.

They all follow his dad up the stairs to the first floor and through the long corridor, waiting for the man to give the all-clear for the outer door to open. When he does, they step through the large, reinforced door of the bunker until they’re all standing in the dark tunnel behind it, the heavy door sliding shut behind them. The tunnel slopes increasingly upwards and isn’t all that wide, designed to look like the entrance to an animal’s den from the outside. They walk their way through it and climb through the whole at the end, arriving at the outside.

“Alright people, let’s make this hunt a good one, shall we?”

His dad calls them all to attention and divides them into couples, giving each of them a section of the woods to hunt in. He and Malia are directed to the East. It’s weird, not being paired with Cole for once. He has more important things to worry about, though.

“You ready?” he asks Malia, who’s clearly preoccupied by their surroundings. Right, he forgot this is the first time she’s seeing this. He chuckles. “Pretty amazing, eh?”

She scoffs. “Stiles, this is so much more than ‘pretty amazing’.” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “It just smells so ... _free_.”

He smiles. He felt the same way when he first experienced it all.

“Come on,” he says, motioning with his head to the East. “We have a job to do.”

 


	5. Stiles: The Wolf

Stiles comes back from the hunt with what appears to be a shallow cut on his arm. Malia had been a little too enthusiastic at some point and slipped, briefly grazing his flesh with her knife.

“I am so sorry, Stiles,” she apologizes for what must be the hundredth time.

He smiles at her, waving it off. “I already told you, it’s fine. It isn’t even bleeding anymore, see? We’ll just find you a weapon that suits you better tomorrow.”

She frowns, but finally agrees to let it go. And hey, their morning wasn’t completely useless. They still caught a rabbit in one of the snares.

When they meet back up with the rest of the crew in front of the hidden entrance – the others having caught a few birds and some more rabbits – his dad nods and tells them to go back inside the tunnel. They walk until they have reached the door of the bunker again and wait for it to open. A few minutes later finds them at the butchery, storing their catches of the day.

His dad comes up to him and takes his arm in a light hold, frowning at the red stain that has bled through the sleeve of his shirt. He gently shoves the sleeve up to inspect the cut and Stiles hisses softly when the material pulls at his skin.

His dad grimaces apologetically and squeezes his shoulder. “Go by the hospital and get this looked at, would you?”

“Dad, it’s just a scratch,” he protests lightly with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

His dad sighs. “Just humor your old man, kid.”

He snorts and throws the man a mock salute. “Aye aye, Grandpa.”

He says a quick goodbye to the rest of his team and makes his way to the hospital. He has to go back through the corridor to reach it. Unfortunately, the hospital is somewhat understaffed. In fact, up until six months ago Deaton was their only Doctor. Now they also have Melissa McCall. She’s a woman in her forties and the newest human in the HR. She managed to find HR back in January and has been living with them ever since. Stiles doesn’t know much about her background, but she must have told his dad enough to make him trust her. She has a lot of medical knowledge, so she was quickly accepted as a member of the Doctors.

Melissa smiles at him when he comes in.

“Hello Stiles.”

He waves at her and winces, having forgotten the stupid cut on his arm.

“You want me to take a look at that?”

He wants to state that he’s fine again, but knows it most likely won’t get him anywhere. Instead, he sighs and shows her his arm. She gently takes it in her hands and inspects it, nodding to herself.

“Nothing major. I’ll just disinfect it and patch it up a little, that should do the trick.”

“Thanks.” He lets his arm fall back to his side and scans the room until he finds a chair to sit on, moving over to it and taking a seat.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton greets him as he enters the room. “Did you have a good hunt?”

Stiles shrugs. “Sure, Doc. As long as I don’t come back empty handed, I’m calling it a success.”

“Very well.”

Melissa comes back and patches up his arm like she promised. He’s ready to continue his day a few minutes later. Thanking her, he stands up.

“Bye guys.” He waves and exits the hospital.

He visits the kitchen next. Most of the people are already done with their lunch, so Stiles doesn’t have to wait in line this time. Boyd stoically hands him his meal and goes back to whatever he’s doing.

Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

He quickly eats his lunch and brings his plate back to the kitchen station afterwards, unsurprised when Boyd barely spares him a glance. He decides to check on his colleagues in the control room, even though he’s not on shift today. It’s kind of a second branch of the Hunting crew.  The entire HR bunker is set up with cameras – safe from bedrooms and bathrooms, of course – and it’s their job to spot anything unusual. Mostly nothing happens, so they’re more focused on the cameras viewing the outside. It’s unlikely to ever happen, but if the Wolves or other shifters find them, they’ll know. They even have a silent alarm that lets them know when strangers are entering their territory, so they can prepare. It’s a pretty neat system.

Since there isn’t much to see most of the time, there are only two Hunters scheduled to man the control room every day, just as a precaution. Of course, they also need someone to open and close the bunker’s front door, which also happens from here. It’s less exciting than the actual hunting, but no less important.

Before he can reach the control room, he hears several pairs of fast footsteps coming his way through the corridor he’s walking in. He is not surprised when he hears Lydia’s voice a second later.

“What did I say about running?” she snaps as she emerges from the study room. Lydia, like Deaton, is pretty much a genius. However, instead of using it for medical purposes, she uses her brain to mould the little brains of the seven HR kids, along with Marin Morrell, who is the Teachers’ representative. 

The kids are still running towards him, giggling like crazy. He turns around before they get the chance to run him over.

“Whoa, little peeps!” He throws out his arms to stop them.

When the kids have come to a halt in front of him, he folds his arms and adopts his ‘intimidating Hunter’-persona, which somehow always works to get the kids to listen.

“What rule do we have about running?” He keeps his face a blank mask, slowly meeting their eyes one by one.

“We don’t do it.” Little Chester scuffs his toes on the ground, avoiding his eyes.

He nods. “Good. And what rule do we have about Teachers?”

Eight-year-old Holly raises her hand and he motions for her to answer.

“We always have to listen to them and respect them,” she recites the rule dutifully.

“Exactly,” Stiles nods. “So I think you owe Miss Lydia an apology, hm?”

The kids turn around slowly, heads bowed.

“Sorry, Miss Lydia,” they say in unison, then turn back to Stiles expectantly.

“Can we please go play now?” Chester begs him.

He grins and throws his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the playroom. “Get out of here.”

They don’t need to be told twice.

He looks at Lydia, who does not look amused.

“I was handling it,” she snaps.

He sighs. “I know, Lyds.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Don’t call me that.”

He huffs and turns away from her, continuing his walk to the control room. He may not have any close friends, but at least the Hunters like and respect him. That’s enough.

 

* * *

 

Roughly two weeks later Stiles is working another morning shift with his crew. He and Malia have been assigned the southern section today and are hunting a deer. Ever since they replaced Malia’s knife with a bow and arrows for her to hunt, the two of them have become a pretty good team.

They’ve never managed to catch a deer together, though.

Malia, to Stiles’ surprise, is very eager to prove herself. When he asked her about it, she didn’t want to give him the reason for it, but he figures that as long as she’s working hard on the job, he can’t complain.

Stiles is poised on a low branch in one of the larger trees, ready to throw his knife in the blink of an eye if Malia fails to shoot the deer for whatever reason. Their prey is drinking from a small stream, completely oblivious to their presence. The girl herself is squatted down to prevent the animal from noticing her and she’s adjusting her aim, getting ready to shoot.

Before she gets the chance, however, something must have startled the deer, because it suddenly looks up and darts away like its life is on the line, which ... fair enough.

“Damn it!” Malia curses, punching the dirt in frustration. “How the hell did it even hear me?”

Stiles swiftly climbs down and hums a negative, eyes trailing in the direction the deer shot off to. He narrows his eyes.

“I don’t think it did.”

Malia huffs. “Then what did it hear?”

He shrugs and twirls his knife in his hand, sending her a quick smirk. “Let’s find out.”

The girl rolls her eyes, but is unable to hide her answering grin. They quietly walk into the opposite direction of the deer, figuring that’s where the disruption must have come from, keeping their eyes and ears open. When they’ve been tracking aimlessly through the woods for almost fifteen minutes, Malia sighs and halts her steps.

“Let’s head back and try to catch that deer again,” she says. “This trail doesn’t lead anywhere.”

Stiles scoffs. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Let’s just follow it to the boundary line and if we still haven’t found anything by then, I promise we’ll go back, okay?”

She lets out a long breath. “Fine. But I’m telling you now we won’t find anything. If there really is something big out here, we would have found it by now.”

“Ugh, ye of little faith,” he complains dramatically.

She punches his shoulder. Stiles huffs out a laugh and acts like it didn’t hurt a bit.

They walk for another ten minutes or so until they reach the edge of their territory. Safe for the trees and the two of them, the place is empty. Malia looks smug where she’s standing next to him.

“Told you so,” she sing-songs.

Stiles holds up one of his hands, though, silencing her with a frown. They really _are_ the only ones here. It’s way too quiet. Even the small woodland creatures seem to have vanished from the place. So where the hell are they?

“Stiles?” Malia whispers, catching on to his sudden anxiety.

He motions with his hand, asking her to give him a second as he scans the boundary line for anything suspicious. He fucking _knows_ there is something shady going on here.

That’s when he sees the boy.

He quickly makes a mental list of the guy’s appearance; dark hair, tanned skin, probably a few inches shorter than him, though around the same age. He looks lost. Then, the boy tilts his head a little and sniffs.

_Crap._

He motions for Malia to hide and is relieved when she does without a fuss. Stiles quickly takes cover himself, but makes sure he can keep his eyes on his target. He tries to get his thundering heartbeat and quick breathing under control, knowing he’s the one who has to take control in this situation.

The boy is a freaking _shifter_. How did he even find them this far in the woods?

He takes a few deep breaths, assessing the situation with a calm mind. The Wolf hasn’t triggered the silent alarm yet, but he will soon. Stiles decides he needs to create a distraction. He looks around himself and picks up some small stones. They’ll do the trick.

He starts by throwing one, catching the shifter’s attention. As he expected, the boy’s head immediately snaps towards the direction the sound came from. Good.

He throws another, closer to himself and the boundary line this time and continues to do that a couple more times, luring the boy inside the territory to trick the alarm. He smirks when the Wolf unknowingly crosses the line. All Stiles has to do now is make sure he doesn’t lose the guy and wait for back up.

When the Wolf seems to be heading closer to Malia’s hideout, however, his plan changes. He throws caution to the wind and stands up from his crouch, climbing up a tree instead to sneak up on the guy from above. When Stiles is close enough, he jumps and lands right behind the shifter. He wraps a strong arm across the guy’s front to stop him from using his arms, his knife against the boy’s throat. He grins briefly when he sees Malia emerge from her hiding spot, ready to fire an arrow at the Wolf if he makes a wrong move.

The Wolf’s skin begins to sizzle where Stiles’ knife touches it and the boy winces. He smirks. So the Wolfsbane _does_ work. His dad and Deaton had told him it would, but he hadn’t ever seen it with his own eyes before. He believes it now.

According to Deaton’s explanation, the human DNA was changed in such a way that shifters are strongly affected by the plant. The Wolfsbane burns them on the outside and can even poison them if it reaches their bloodstream. Serves them right.

The Wolf cranes his neck to get away from Stiles’ blade and Stiles follows the movement with his knife.

“Don’t move,” he hisses.

He hears the boy gulp, but he does listen. Stiles shares a look with Malia, who nods briefly. At that, Stiles spins the Wolf around and pins him against a tree, knife back against his throat.

“Who the hell are you?”, he demands, voice low and dangerous.

For a brief moment, the wolf manages to catch him off guard when the look in his eyes seems panicked. Then Stiles remembers that the boy is a shifter and steels his resolve, pushing the tip of his knife a little harder against the Wolf’s throat.

“Scott”, the guy says, gulping. “My name is Scott McCall.”

Stiles scoffs. “You Wolves really think that we’re a bunch of idiots, don’t you?”

“Actually, most of them think you’re extinct.”

“We’d like to keep it that way.” Malia glares at him. “You think they’d be proud of us if we came back with a dead Wolf instead of dinner, Stiles?”

He lets a malicious grin grace his lips, just to spite the boy and see if it gets a reaction out of him. The Wolf stays quiet, though. He’s either really smart or really stupid, because let’s be honest here; the Wolf could easily overpower them if he really wants to. So why isn’t he doing anything?

That’s when he hears several pairs of footsteps, running and quickly coming closer. Their back-up has arrived. Relief floods through him. He’s glad the shifter isn’t his responsibility anymore. His dad will take it from here. He greets the man without taking his eyes off his captive.

“Hey Dad.”

“Son.” He slowly makes his way forward. “You good?”

He nods. “Yup.”

His dad is next to them now, putting the Wolf’s wrists in Wolfsbane infused handcuffs, trusting Stiles to keep him from lashing out.

He watches as his dad moves a hand into his jacket, grabbing for something in the inside pocket. The hand comes back out with a syringe.

“This will only hurt a little,” his dad says, gripping the boy’s arm to hold him steady.

Then, he jams the syringe into the Wolf’s shoulder. Stiles catches him as he lets out a broken whine and collapses.

 


	6. Stiles: The Flashback

“You did well, kiddo,” his dad tells him back at HR. They’ve put the Wolf in a holding cell down on the fourth floor, located at the very end of the last corridor of bedrooms and more importantly, deep under the ground. The cell is similar to a normal bedroom, but the door is warded with something to keep the Wolf from escaping, Stiles isn’t entirely sure of the details. The Wolf itself is currently lying on the bed, still unconscious.

His dad gently squeezes his neck. “Seriously, I’m proud of you.”

Stiles grins. “Thanks Pops.”

There’s commotion from outside and both men turn around, watching as Melissa forces her way into the room, eyes wide and searching. When her eyes land on the unconscious boy, she gasps.

“Oh my god.” She stumbles closer to the bed. “Scott.”

Stiles frowns. So the boy had been telling the truth after all, then.

“What did you do to him?” She glares at his dad, eyes cold.

The man throws his hands up in a placating gesture, remaining calm as always. “Same thing we do to every newcomer, Melissa. Only his shot was a little stronger than the ones we use on the humans. You know it’s protocol.”

Melissa sighs, deflating. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” his dad says softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Your reaction is only natural.”

“What’s gonna happen to him?”

His dad sighs. “Let’s wait until he wakes up first. Let him tell his story. We’ll figure things out from there.”

The woman nods and sits down at the edge of her son’s bed, gently tracing her knuckles down his cheek. It’s clear that nothing has changed for her. The boy lying on that bed is still her son. He looks at his dad, wondering if the man feels as conflicted as Stiles does right now. What he finds on his dad’s face, however, looks more like sympathy. Like _understanding._

Not gonna lie, the lack of hostility from his dad kind of pisses him off. They’re supposed to be on the same side here. Shifters always have and always will be the enemy. It’s his strongest belief, and the one thing he’ll forever hold on to.

 

* * *

 

 

_Six years ago_

“Dad?” a twelve-year-old Stiles asks, his voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

The older man takes a brief moment to drag a hand across his face, wiping away the stray tears that Stiles can see on his face. He doesn’t understand why his dad is trying to hide them. The man squats down and puts his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, looking up at him.

“You remember how I told you your mom is sick, kiddo?” Stiles nods. Of course he does. “Doctor Deaton has tried everything he can, but – ” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “There isn’t anything he can do for her anymore.”

Stiles shakes his head, refusing to comprehend his father’s words. “What are you saying?”

“Please don’t make me say it out loud, son,” his dad begs. “I can’t – ”

He stumbles forward into his dad’s arms, holding on for dear life as the lump in his throat threatens to suffocate him, his eyes burning. He squeezes them shut, furiously ignoring the moisture that escapes them.

“I don’t want her to die.” He grabs two fistfuls of his dad’s shirt, biting his lip to keep it from trembling so much. “Please don’t let Mom die.”

His dad holds him just as tightly, one of his big hands finding the back of Stiles’ head and holding it to his shoulder, offering comfort and safety. There’s nothing either of them can do anymore.

“I’m sorry,” his dad whispers, stroking Stiles’ hair. “I’m so sorry.”

 

____

 

He’s lying on his mother’s hospital bed a week later, limbs wrapped around her like an octopus. His dad had told him it’s time to say goodbye, but Stiles isn’t ready for that. He never will be.

“Please don’t die.” He whispers the words, afraid he’ll tempt faith if he says it too loudly. His mom lets him bury his head in her neck in a failing attempt to hide his tears.

She huffs softly, stroking his back in long, comforting caresses of her hand. “I’m doing the best I can, honey, but try not to get your hopes up...”

He whines, his voice breaking on a sob. “It’s not _fair_.”

“No, it’s not.” She’s whispering too, and Stiles wonders if she’s crying, like him. He doesn’t dare to look up and find out, though.

“I hate them.” He tightens his arms around her. “Stupid shifters and their stupid superiority complex. It’s their fault that you can’t get the medicine you need. They’re killing you and I will never forgive them for it.”

“Oh Stiles, no – ,”

He cuts her off with a hand on her cheek, looking her straight in the eyes.

“I _promise_.”

 

* * *

 

His attention is drawn back to the bed when the Wolf lets out a pathetic groan, slowly waking up as the sedative wears off.

“Scott?” Melissa asks softly, caressing her son’s cheek again. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

The boy groans again, blinking his eyes open. “Mom?”

She lets out a wet chuckle and wraps her arms around him, kissing his forehead. They start talking to each other in hushed tones, too soft for Stiles to hear, as they cling to each other. For anybody else, the scene might be nice to look at. A family finding its way back to each other probably pulls on most people’s heartstrings. It may even inspire some kind of hope, seeing a Wolf and a human so openly loving each other.

Yet he can’t find it in himself to see it like that, as something positive. No. He doesn’t feel hope. All he feels is a crushing, bone-deep resentment.

“Stiles?” His dad puts a hand on his arm. “You doing okay?”

He nods, looking away from the couple on the bed. “I’m fine.” He schools his glare into something more neutral.

His dad gives him a small, rueful smile and Stiles knows he understands. The man nods and pats his shoulder, then turns around and pointedly clears his throat.

Mother and son let go of each other and face his dad, waiting for whatever it is he has to say. His dad surprises him by stepping forward and extending his hand to the Wolf, making Stiles want to reach out and drag him back. He knows his dad has to be the bigger person here, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Scott, is it?” his dad asks, shaking the teen’s hand with his own. “My name is John. I am the Head of the Council of the Human Resistance. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but I need you to tell me how the hell you were able to find us out here.”

Stiles nods. He would like to know the answer to that one as well.

“Uh,” Scott rubs the back of his neck. “I tracked her scent?”

“Your mom found us about six months ago, kid,” his dad comments, slightly impatient. “You really want me to believe you could still smell her after all that time?”

The boy sighs and shrugs. “I can’t really explain it to someone who isn’t a shifter,” he admits. “It’s almost like instinct. I knew the rough direction she would be taking to find you and just ... followed my gut, I guess?”

“You _guess_?” his dad and him inquire at the same time, incredulous. The man sends him a look over his shoulder, conveying with that look alone to let him do the talking. Stiles nods and motions for him to continue.

“Like I said,” The Wolf sounds almost ... apologetic? Seriously, that can’t be right. “It’s hard to explain to a human.”

“I’m sure it is,” his dad drawls, assessing the boy quietly.

“John, he’s my son.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that.” His dad scowls, clearly in a predicament here. “But I have a whole society of people who are counting on me to keep them safe.”

“I’m not a threat to you!” Stiles really wishes the guy would just keep his mouth shut. “I might be a Wolf now, but that doesn’t mean I belong with them.”

His dad sighs. “You came alone then? Does anybody know where you went? Somebody missing you?”

He shakes his head. “No, I promise. After I gave myself up so my Mom could run, they took me to some facility where an alpha bit and turned me.”

Huh. No wonder Melissa didn’t like talking about her life before HR. Judging by the look on his dad’s face, though, she did confide the story to him.

“The shifters were good to me, helped me get accustomed to the Wolf. They told me the general population thinks you’re extinct already. Only a small force is aware that there might be stray humans left, though they aren’t hunting for them or anything. It’s pretty weird.” The boy shrugs. “After a while they started to trust me and let me live on my own again. I bided my time until I was sure no one was keeping tabs on me anymore and traced my mom’s steps and now I’m here. I promise, that’s all there is to it.”

“Right.” Stiles snorts before he can stop himself. “So what, you’re a damn hero?”

Melissa and her son send him identical frowns, while his dad just looks exasperated. Stiles makes a face and huffs, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna get lunch.”

They let him leave without comment.

 

 


	7. Derek: The Decision

In the week following his conversation with Isaac, Derek tries to forget about his doubts and just pushes any unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind.

As Derek often likes to do when he isn’t called in to work, he is reclined on the couch in the spacious study, a book in his hands. He’s about to start a new chapter when the door to the study opens and Laura barges inside.

“Hey you.”

“Hey yourself.” He puts his book away and makes a face when Laura unceremoniously plants herself on top of his legs. “What are you doing here?”

She huffs indignantly. “Maybe I just wanted to read something.”

“Uhuh.” He lightly tugs on her ponytail. “Try again.”

She sighs. “Fine. I want you to go to the gym with me.”

“Okay ... Any particular reason you want me to come with you?”

Laura bites her lip, a clear indication that she’s nervous about telling him whatever she’s holding back. Then she takes a deep breath and powers through.

“Okay, so there’s this guy I met there who’s really _really_ cute and suddenly he’s there every time I’m there and I think he likes me too, but I don’t know if he even likes me for the right reasons, so I kind of want to ask him out on a date to find out, but I chicken out every single time so I need you to come with me and get me through it.”

Derek’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. He’s pretty sure she didn’t breathe throughout that entire explanation.

“The great Laura Hale is afraid to make the first move?”

“ _Derek,_ ” she whines, dragging out the syllables. “Will you please just come with me?”

He laughs. “Of course.”

They take Laura’s car this time, a gleaming silver-coloured design, and make their way to the gym. Once they’re there, they briefly part ways to use the changing rooms and change into something more comfortable. He meets Laura again in front of the big window overseeing the actual gym, many people already busy working out.

His sister is intently watching a guy doing chin ups at the pull up bar and if he wasn’t such an awesome brother, he’d make a comment about how ridiculous she looks right now, practically salivating as she watches the man.

“God, look at him.” She hugs her towel to her chest. “He’s like personified perfection.”

Derek snorts. “Right. So what’s this guy’s name again?”

“Jordan,” she whispers, like she’s afraid the man might hear if she talks to loud.

“Great.” He claps his hands together. “So, wanna go in there and ask him out?”

Laura makes a small meeping sound and quickly shakes her head. “Maybe later.”

He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Wasn’t the point of me coming with you to make sure you actually ask him out this time?”

“Ugh, I hate it when you listen to me,” she groans. “Just get in there and help me with my work out first.”

Deciding to humour her for now, he enters the gym and lets his sister choose a spot for their warming up. She asks him to help her do some stretches, which definitely draws the attention of the Jordan guy. Even though he must know that he and Laura are related, he still looks kind of jealous.

Derek huffs and gets up, pulling Laura with him. He puts his hands on her shoulders and turns her body in Jordan’s direction with a gentle push.

“Go.”

“I’m not su – ”

“ _Go!_ ”

“Alright, alright,” she mutters, going at last.

Instead of watching what will inevitably be the start of his sister’s new relationship, he opts to cross the room and do some bench presses. About ten minutes later, Laura joins him there, blinding smile on her face.

“I take it he agreed to a date?”

She nods, barely keeping herself from squealing. “I’m taking him out this Friday.”

Derek grins. “Good for you, Lau.”

She sits down and starts her floor workout and he joins her, because now that he’s here he might as well.

“So have you talked to Mom lately?”

While Laura keeps going through her sit ups like nothing’s going on, Derek stops his own push ups to give her an incredulous look.

“You _know_ , don’t you?”

“Know what?” The question seems casual, but Derek has known her his entire life; she isn’t fooling him.

“That Mom and the other Guardians are planning on giving me a higher-ranking position,” he clarifies. “I should have expected that she’d tell you.”

She gets to her feet and shrugs. “She’s teaching me to be an alpha _and_ Guardian someday. I need to be involved in stuff like this.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She sighs and extends a hand, dragging him up to a standing position as well.

“So do you know if you’re going to take the job, yet?”

He shakes his head, forehead creasing just a little bit. “It’s not as easy a decision as people make it out to be. Not for me, at least.”

He can’t tell why, but for some reason he expects his sister to talk him into taking the job. He’s already bracing himself for an empowering speech about what a great asset he would be to the team. She completely throws him off-guard, however, when she puts both of her hands on his shoulders and flashes him the sisterly smile she only uses when she gets personal with him or Cora.

“Then maybe you should figure something else out first.”

He frowns, a bit thrown by the statement. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should think about what you want to do with your life before making a big decision like this. Because trust me, once you say yes to this, I’m not sure there’s going to be a way back. It’s a huge commitment.”

Laura’s right, of course. She would know.

“How do I do that, though?”

She smiles then, placing one of her hands on his chest, right over his heart.

“You already know, deep down.” She shrugs. “You just have to be brave enough to act on it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Laura's words stay with him, often making him lose focus of whatever he’s doing.

The things she said, added to the questions that the conversation with Isaac brought up, have driven him to a point where he feels so pressured to come up with answers that he has the very urgent need to just get away from it all.

Normally when he feels the need to escape for a while, he would go on a good, long hike to think things through, but he doesn’t think that will be enough this time. He’s anxious, his Wolf is restless, and he feels increasingly more cornered. It’s not a fun place to be.

So he makes a decision. A quite radical one, especially for him, yet as soon as the idea forms inside his head he knows it is the right thing to do.

He isn’t sure how people will react when he tells them. His family will probably be shocked, his mother in particular. Laura will probably see it coming, she’ll be supportive. The same goes for Isaac, although he expects his friend to be at least somewhat surprised when he lets him know.

He talks to his family first. After dinner, he calls them all together in the living room, announcing he has something important to tell them.

“Is this about my offer?” Derek tries not to let his mother’s excitement change his decision.

He nods, sitting down next to her. “It is. I’ve talked about it with Laura and Isaac and they’ve made me realize something.”

“Go on,” his dad gently urges him to continue.

“I have no idea what I want to do with my life right now. So I think it would be good for me to go away for a while, to take some time to find myself, I guess.”

His mom’s eyes are wide, and it takes a while for her to formulate words. “I ... You – You can’t just _leave_.”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright.” His dad puts a hand over hers, sending a reassuring smile in Derek’s direction. “The kid’s old and wise enough to take some time for himself if that’s what he needs.”

His mother takes a deep breath, letting the words sink in. She sighs and lays her hand on Derek’s arm. “Yes, of course you are. I’m sorry sweetie, you just surprised me a little.” She pulls him in a hug. “I’m still so proud of you, Derek.”

Laura, much like he predicted she would, just grins and punches his arm.

“Promise to call every other night so we know where you’re at, though. We still need to know that you’re okay.”

He nods. “I will.”

Cora hugs him and looks up at him with that sweet little smile of hers.

“Love you, Der-bear.”

 “Love you too, Tiny,” he says, grinning down at her.

He feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It feels incredible not to have to live up to anyone’s expectations anymore, at least for a little while. For the first time in a long time, his Wolf shows genuine excitement.

 

* * *

 

 

He leaves the next morning. He packs a gym bag and takes it downstairs, where he meets his parents and sisters in the spacious hallway to say goodbye.

He receives a long, loving hug from everyone and his father takes an extra moment to put his hand on Derek’s neck and squeeze affectionately, scent-marking him one more time.

“Remember to call, yeah?”

“Will do,” he nods and moves to the door, eager to get out or else he’ll never leave.

Before he actually leaves town, he makes one last stop. He gets inside his car and programs it to drive to Isaac’s place. There’s no way he’s leaving without telling his best friend goodbye first.

Isaac opens his door with a surprised smile on his face. “Hey man, what are you doing here?”

“I came to say goodbye, actually.” He scratches the back of his head.

“Oh,” Isaac frowns, but it’s quickly replaced by a smile again. “I guess you figured it out then, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Good for you, man.” Isaac pulls him into a one-armed hug. “So are you leaving today?”

He nods. 

“Well check in with me every once in a while, okay? And make sure you don’t have too much fun without me.”

He snorts. “I’ll try.” He takes a step back and turns around, heading back to his vehicle.

He looks back one final time, but then gets in his car, buckling in with a small sigh and letting the Wolf’s excitement bleed through. He grins and hits the road.

 


	8. Derek: The Accident

One thing that Derek considers to be a drawback of modern cars is that they need a certain destination to function, rather than just getting inside a car and drive around aimlessly.

As much thought as he put into deciding to take this trip, he never really thought about where he’d like to go.

Since his car does require a destination to take him to, he decides to just head for the coastline first. He’ll figure out where he wants to go from there.

He spends the day lost in thought, enjoying the nice scenery the windows of his car provide. Surprisingly, the fact that he doesn’t have a real destination yet doesn’t even bother him that much. He feels like he can breathe easier just being out of the political capital of D.C.

The need to be away from his family and pack briefly fills him with guilt, but he does his best not to let those thoughts linger. His family is supportive of the decision he made. They all told him to _do what he has to do_ , even though he isn’t entirely sure what that’s supposed to look like yet.

But that’s the whole point of this trip, isn’t it? To figure himself out? Or to figure his Wolf out, maybe? Compared to others, he thinks he isn’t as in touch with his Wolf as he could be, hanging on to the more human aspects of himself. Not because he dislikes the Wolf, he was born with it and he fully accepts it as a part of himself. It has probably more to do with his fascination of humanity and what being human actually means.

Regardless, he’s hoping it will be an enlightening journey.

 

* * *

 

 

When he arrives at the coastline that afternoon, he eats a quick early dinner at a roadside restaurant and directs his car to drive him to the closest hotel. Once there, he books a room for the night and hits the hay, planning to hit the road again early the next morning.

He dumps his bag in a corner by the bed and gets his phone out to make the promised call home. Instead of simply calling, he decides on a hologram, so they can talk face-to-face.

Laura is the one who picks up.

“Hey there, little brother!”

He chuckles. “Hi Laura.”

Cora’s head appears over Laura’s shoulder and he waves at her, making her giggle.

“Hi Der,” she says. “Did you find a place to stay the night?”

He nods and crosses the room to the cosy-looking window seat, sitting down to appreciate the view of the ocean. The sun is low in the sky, but isn’t actually setting yet. The light reflects off the water in a myriad of glimmers.

“Der?” Laura’s voice drags him away from his thoughts.

“Sorry.” He turns his eyes back to the hologram. “Yeah, I’m at a hotel at the coast right now. Not sure where I’ll be going tomorrow, but for now I’m definitely good here.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” She smiles. “Anyway, thanks for calling in. Be sure to let us know when you’ve figured out your destination, okay?”

He nods. “No problem.”

They say goodbye and disconnect the call. Now that he doesn’t have anything to do anymore, he takes the time to look outside, smiling down at the families spending their evening at the beach. It’s nice, to suddenly not have any obligations anymore. Not like he was being held back from doing the things he wanted before, but this feels different, somehow.

He feels free.

It’s odd to experience. Even deciding what to do with his evening is tough to figure out. In the end he just watches some TV, lazily reclining on the bed in his hotel room.

He’ll figure out the important stuff tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning he takes a nice, long shower and orders some room service for breakfast, figuring he can indulge himself.

Stomach filled with the delicious breakfast-food, he picks up his bag and checks out of the hotel, ready to hit the road again.

He ponders where to go next. Whether there are places he would like to go and see now that he has the chance. For a long time, nothing really comes up. He orders the car to show him a map of America to help him along. As his eyes glance over the states, they are almost immediately drawn to the top right corner of the map.

_Of course._

He’s almost surprised that it took him this long to figure out that _that_ is the place he wants to go. Of course his heart, soul, or Wolf, whatever you want to call it, would lead him back to the one place he has been able to really be himself.

He’s going back to Maine. To Portland, the only city that has ever truly felt like home to him.

Derek smiles and gives his car its destination, sitting back and getting comfortable for the ride. Maybe he’ll make a trip around the state while he’s there. He’s never seen much of it aside from Portland, but he’s sure it must be beautiful. He stops once around lunchtime, to get something to eat and relieve his bladder. He gets a coffee to go and gets back inside the car.

He spends the next leg of his journey plotting where else he’d like to go. He elects to make a short stop in Portland first, then travel north and let his car plan a route at random. The sense of freedom makes his stomach flutter, a smile taking over his features. It’s exhilarating.

 

* * *

 

He arrives in Portland a few hours later, sighing wistfully at the sight of the familiar woods surrounding him. He drives to a luxury hotel he remembers from his childhood, glad to see it’s still there. He gets a room for the night and leaves his bag at the foot of the bed before leaving again.

He spends the rest of the day visiting his favourite places in the city: Casco Bay, the Historical Society Museum, and of course his old house. He doesn’t know the family that lives in it now and he felt uncomfortable just knocking on their door, so he just watched it from a distance, basking in the childhood memories.

He has a late meal at the diner in the neighbourhood. When he looks up at the waitress to give her his order, he halts, feeling a smile take over his face.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” She shakes her head at him. “Derek Hale. Never thought I’d see you back here.”

He snorts. “Hi Maggie.”

“Get up here.” She grabs his arm and all but drags him from the booth so she can hug him. He’s so much taller than her now. She leans back, looking up at him. “Look at you, all grown up.”

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise.” She pinches his cheek and gently shoves him back into the booth. “And thank you for not commenting on my age.” She winks. “Such a gentleman.”

“You were a good influence.”

She laughs. “Oh, you charmer. What can I get you honey?”

He shrugs and tells her to surprise him, smiling as he watches her go, thinking about the times she used to babysit him as a child. She’s visibly gotten older, but the years have been kind on her. Despite the wrinkles beginning to show on her face, she still has an air of mischief around her.

Given the late hour, it doesn’t take long for his food to be served. Maggie sets it all down in front of him and takes a seat across from him. They catch up while he eats. It’s mostly her talking about her life and the goings-on in Portland, since she knows about the major events in his life already. Everybody does. She does ask questions about him, though. It’s really nice to talk to her again.

He leaves when the diner is about to close, parting from Maggie with another hug.

“Have a good time traveling, Derek. It was lovely seeing you again.”

“You too.”

They say their goodbyes and he goes back to the hotel, ready for some shut-eye.

 

* * *

 

 

He sleeps in the next morning. He takes his time for breakfast and a nice long shower, but then finally hits the road again. He lets the car map out a route and sits back to take in the view. It’s calming, to watch the scenery pass by.

He drives for hours, completely at ease. He passes through a few towns and cities, but nothing interesting enough yet to make him want to explore it. It’s been a couple of hours since he’s left the last city behind, when it becomes disturbingly quiet. On the entire stretch of road in front of him, there isn’t a car in sight.

He frowns. “Strange.”

He checks whether he’s missed his car notifying him of any roadblocks or such, but there’s nothing. Maybe this is just a quiet area at this time of day. It’s not like he would know; he hasn’t been back here in ages.

For a while, his car continues to drive silently on, still without a sign of any other people around. His Wolf becomes more restless by the minute.

He can’t uncover the reason, but his Wolf is howling at him to stop the car.

He soon finds out why.

Without his say so, the car abruptly speeds up. He frowns, orders it to slow down, as is protocol when something like this happens. The car doesn’t hit the brakes.

Still speeding, he tries to assess the situation calmly. When the magnetic field around the car starts producing electric sparks, however, all his intentions of staying calm fly right out the window. He tries to remember what he has to do in a situation like this, but can’t recall if it was ever covered in the manual or his brief driving lessons.

He white-knuckles the steering wheel, nudging it in both directions, but the car won’t budge. Sweating and heart racing, he wolfs out, features changing to a beta-shift.

“Come on,” he growls, still trying to get control over the car.

To his ever increasing horror, his brain registers the bend in the road up ahead. And he knows, he fucking _knows_ , that if he doesn’t slow the car down now, he won’t be able to take that bend without crashing. There’s just no way.

In a last panic-driven attempt to stop the car, he stomps his foot on the emergency brakes, bracing himself for the impact.

Nothing happens.

The car doesn’t slow.

He doesn’t make it through the bend.

This is going to hurt.

As he expected, the car takes the bend so fast that it is thrown roughly out of the magnetic field. Spinning. Crashing.

The car hits something, he has no way of knowing what, and the impact is so sudden that his head smacks against the window. The airbag hits him. Hard.

The noise is deafening, coming from all around him, his body still being jostled every which way, until the car finally rolls to a slow stop.

He swallows with difficulty. For a few moments, all he’s aware of are the ringing of his ears, his pounding heart and his painful, shallow breathing.

The ringing eventually stops. He forces himself to try to take deeper breaths. Still shaking, he tries to assess the damage.

His car is upside-down. His windshield is partly broken from the impact. His head _hurts_. He reaches out a hand to touch it and winces when it comes back damp.

He groans. “Great.”

Black spots appear in his vision. He wills his eyes further open, refusing to give in to the desire to close them and sleep. His teeth grit together. He needs to get out of his car.

Bracing himself, he unbuckles his seatbelt, tapping into his Wolf’s strength to break the windshield enough so he can climb out of it. It’s slow-going. His vision keeps swimming. The blood trickling down the side of his head is very distracting.

He takes a deep breath to try to clear his head a little, which is still throbbing, the black spots in his vision refusing to go away.

A pungent smell reaches his nose. Warning bells go off in his head – no idea what it means. It’s just so hard to focus. He taps into his Wolf again, taking another breath to categorise the smell.

Smoke, his mind supplies.

His head whips back to the car and he takes in the sighs of it, sparks flying around it and smoke growing thicker by the second.

“ _Shit._ ”

He scrambles backwards. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t _think_ like this. He should try to stop the bleeding on his head, but he’s literally in the middle of nowhere and has zero resources, doesn’t have the magical ability to heal himself.

But no, that’s not true, is it? He does heal faster in his full Wolf form. Putting more distance between himself and the car, he moves onto his hands and knees and shifts, letting the large, black Wolf come to the surface.

It’s almost impossible to fight the dizziness now, but he’s still aware enough to get away from the smoking car before it explodes. Movements sluggish and tail between his legs, he wanders into the woods, the only thing surrounding him.

He stumbles away until he thinks he will be far enough from the car. He can’t fight any longer and just lets go, losing consciousness.

 


	9. Stiles: The Reconciliation

_July, 2214_

 

The first week that Scott is with them, the boy stays locked up in his makeshift prison cell. Melissa isn’t happy about it, but Stiles is glad that his dad made the right decision. As far as he is concerned, the guy should be grateful to even still be alive.

His dad has notified the rest of their society of Scott’s being there as well. People aren’t very ... enthusiastic. Not that Stiles can blame them.  His dad has set up guard duty at the boy’s cell. The man doesn’t trust people not to take matters into their own hands and do God knows what to the shifter. Again, Stiles can’t blame them.

The Wolf gets fed, of course. Melissa personally brings him leftovers of all the meals every day. When he needs to use the toilet, he can only go under supervision of two of the guards. It’s not ideal, but everyone involved knows it’s the best option given the circumstances.

Whenever Stiles is on guard duty, the wolf acts ... uneasy. He probably remembers their first encounter. It amuses Stiles to no end.

“Why do you hate me so much?” The Wolf asks him one day, two hours into Stiles’ watch.

He rolls his eyes and continues cleaning his knives.

“Seriously dude, what did I ever do to you?”

He looks up then, unimpressed and points one of the knives in the boy’s direction. “Shut up, fur butt.”

The teen makes a face, but does the smart thing and keeps his mouth shut. Stiles returns to his cleaning, keeping an eye on the Wolf at all times.

 

* * *

 

Two days later finds them in the same situation. When the Wolf opens his mouth again, ready to say something, Stiles immediately stops him.

“Shut it, Wolfboy.”

For a moment it looks like the guy is going to listen, but then Stiles should have known he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“You’re such a hypocrite!”

The Wolf’s voice edges on a growl, and he arches an eyebrow in amusement. “Is that so? Do tell me why.”

The guy chuckles humourlessly. “No, I won’t. You won’t listen to me anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” Stiles shrugs.

“I am going to ask you one question, though.”

“Which is?” he asks, curious despite himself.

For the briefest moment, it looks like the Wolf’s mouth ticks up in the beginning of a smile. He schools it back into a neutral expression before Stiles can be sure, though.

“If our situations would have been reversed, if it would have been your dad whose life was on the line and the only option to save him was to literally throw yourself to the Wolves. What would you have done?”

Stiles grinds his teeth together, glaring at the Wolf for all he’s worth. That is so beside the point. And just fucking cruel to even ask.

“I fucking hate you.”

The Wolf grins. “Suit yourself.”

 

* * *

 

As much as Stiles pretends to be all tough and capable of holding a grudge, he really just ... isn’t. Sure, he can stay angry for a long time, but mostly that’s just because he’s stubborn. And Scott is right. All the things he said are true. So yes, he has to admit that he’s okay with him being here right now. Naturally, this is then also the part where his stubbornness kicks in.

“Nothing has changed,” Stiles tells the Wolf the next time he’s on watch.

The boy betrays that hint of a smile again, as if he knows that Stiles is lying. “I get it.”

“Good.”

He starts the calming task of cleaning his knives again and leaves it at that, enjoying the quiet.

“So,” Scott pipes up about an hour later, “Aren’t you a little young to be a Hunter?”

Ugh. This guy. “Weren’t you a little young to sacrifice yourself for your mother?”

Scott grumbles and reverts his eyes. “Touché.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey Stiles,” the Wolf greets him the umpteenth time Stiles is on guard duty.

“What, we’re on a first-name basis now?”

“Just sit your hairless ass down, dude.”

“Really?” He makes himself comfortable on the ground. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Shut up, I’m out of practice.”

He snorts. “If you say so.”

They fall into their routine – because let’s admit it, that’s totally what it is by now – of sitting in comfortable silence, Stiles cleaning his knives and Scott doing whatever it is he does during their time together. Which, come to think of it, always ends in him asking some kind of question. When he still hasn’t uttered a word after an hour and a half, Stiles looks up at him.

The guy has his eyes closed, but Stiles isn’t fooled into thinking he’s asleep or anything. His breathing isn’t slow enough, for starters. He stares at him, unashamed. Looking at him like this, he wouldn’t even be able to tell the guy is a shifter. In fact, if Stiles hadn’t seen him sniff the air when he and Malia first encountered him, he probably wouldn’t have realized it at all.

It makes him wonder. There are so many questions he wants to ask, yet still part of him curses his brain for even being curious. He hates shifters. End of story.

His mouth doesn’t get the memo and asks the question anyway.

“So what’s it like, being able to turn into a furball?”

The guy slowly opens one eye, assessing him. “Why do you ask?”

Stiles makes a face at him, annoyed. “I don’t know, just ...” He sighs. “Never mind.”

“No, it’s okay,” Scott says, sitting up a little straighter and opening his eyes fully. “What do you want to know?”

“Do you.” He looks down, frowning at his knife. “Does it feel different, for you? I mean obviously there’s an animal in your head now, or it’s just a part of you, but ... I don’t know, you just seem so ...”

“Human?” the guy offers.

He frowns. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Look dude, I may be a Wolf now, but inside I’m still the human boy who tried to survive with his mother. That never changed.”

“Yeah.” He sighs again, admitting defeat. “I’m starting to get that.”

“You are?” Scott’s voice is hopeful and he looks like an honest to God puppy, he really can’t describe it any other way. It’s so unexpectedly amusing that it startles a laugh out of him, prompting the Wolf to smile in return.

“Yeah dude, I am.”

Scott barks out a laugh and Stiles arches an eyebrow at him in a silent question.

“I was right, wasn’t I? You would have done the same thing if it meant saving your dad.”

Stiles sighs, happy that the boy at least didn’t make him admit out loud that he was right all along.

“Sure, whatever.” He smirks. “You want a doggie treat now or something?” He snorts when Scott sends him an half-hearted glare. “Too soon?”

“You’re a terrible person.”

He sighs dramatically. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll grow on you.”

“Ugh.”

They both laugh and that’s how his dad finds them when he enters the room a moment later.

He blinks. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“Well Dad, my man Scottie and I have come to an understanding.”

“Good, because I have a proposition for you boys.” The man continues when he’s met with two similarly scrunched up faces. “I think Scott has proven by now that he won’t be a problem to us, so I was thinking that maybe it’s time we introduce him to society. Starting with assigning him a bedroom.”

Stiles’ first reaction is to object, but when he catches sight of Scott’s hopeful face, still looking like a damn puppy, he just ... closes his mouth and thinks again. Which is fortunate, because he has a feeling that his dad came to him specifically for a reason.

“Are you – ” He grimaces. “You’re trying to tell me I won’t have my room to myself anymore, aren’t you?”

“I thought you just said you two were friends. Aren’t you happy to be sharing a room with him?”

He shrugs. “Well yeah, but you know, it’s less privacy and stuff ...” At the blank look on his dad’s face he starts clarifying his words. “I’m an eighteen-year-old boy, Dad. I have needs.”

His dad huffs and rolls his eyes. “Well, I have needs too and you don’t hear me complaining.”

He makes a face. God. Just. No. “Ugh, TMI Dad. Seriously.”

“So you’ll share your room, then?”

He sighs. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll share it.”

His dad beams and Stiles huffs at the sight of the smug look on his face. “Perfect. Then your guard duty is officially over now. Go show him your room and help set things up. I’ll be back in a few to give him a tour of the place.”

“Okay.” They both nod, watching as the man leaves the room again.

Stiles gets up, clapping his hands once. “Please tell me you don’t snore.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Welcome to your new room, I guess,” Stiles says, waving a hand around as they stand inside his – well, _their_ – bedroom.

Scott dumps the few things he owns on the mattress opposite from Stiles’ and lies down on it. He pillows his head on one arm and stares at the ceiling.

He tilts his head to the side to look at him. “Have you had your own room for long?”

Stiles shakes his head and lies down on his own mattress, since he doesn’t really have anything else to do right now anyway, now that his guard duty is over. His dad hasn’t given him any new directions yet.

“Nah, only a couple of months. Got it when I turned eighteen.”

Scott nods. “Cool.”

“Yeah, it was,” he agrees. “I’ll get used to sharing again soon enough, though. Kinda nice to have someone to talk to again, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs with a small sigh. “I don’t really get along with the other people my age. But it’s fine, the Hunters like me. That’s enough.”

Scott snorts. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

He sends him a questioning look, not sure which part he’s referring to.

“That people don’t like you,” Scott clarifies, having the audacity to laugh when he lets out an indignant squawk. “Hey, I’m just saying. You’re kind of an ass.”

“Shut up,” he says without any heat, unable to hide his grin.

“So have you always been here?” The two of them are still lazily staring at the ceiling as they wait for Stiles’ dad.

“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “Born and raised in the bunker. What about you? Where did you and your mom stay all those years?”

Scott sighs heavily, looking wistful for a moment. “For the first ten years or so of my life, me and my mom still lived with my dad in a secluded home in the mountains. We were happy there, no one knew we even lived there, until my dad decided he wanted to belong to ‘normal society’. He tried to get my mom to agree with him, but she refused. So he turned his back on us and my mom and I took our things and left. She knew the area well and found us an abandoned shed. It wasn’t much, but we were safe. And human.”

“So what happened?” He almost doesn’t ask, but he’s too damn curious. He doesn’t know much about the real world out there. He wants to hear every story he can.

“A couple of government Wolves found us.” Scott shrugs matter-of-factly. “It was completely by accident. I was getting us food and noticed them; there were three of them, just doing a random check of the area. I ran back and told my mom to run. Told her to find this place. She always used to tell me stories, you know? We didn’t really believe there actually were places out there like this, but we didn’t have another choice at that point. I knew those Wolves would find us.”

He’s quiet for a bit, seemingly lost in thought. Stiles startles when he continues, voice low. “Of course she refused to leave me behind at first, but I knew they would take both of us if they got the chance, so ... I made her leave and offered myself up. Made sure the Wolves noticed me so I could lead them into the opposite direction of my mom. They caught me, brought me to a facility, drugged me. I woke up as a shifter. The rest you pretty much know already.”

“Man,” Stiles breathes. He isn’t sure what to say to that. If there even _is_ something he can say to that. He’s sure ‘that sucks’ doesn’t really cover it.

Scott sighs. “Yeah, but it is what it is. I found you guys and my mom, so it’s all good now. Being a Wolf isn’t all bad.”

There’s a tap on the door. He cranes his neck to see who it is. His dad looks down at them, his gun in the holster at his hip. He pretty much always has it with him, but normally he doesn’t show it off as much. Stiles figures it is to make sure no one gets aggressive about Scott being free now.

“You ready for the tour?”

“Yes Sir.” Scott gets up. Stiles does the same.

The two of them follow his dad out of their room and through the long corridor leading to the stairs. They ascend them all the way to the second floor and his dad leads them to the kitchen first, so Stiles guesses he wants to get the introduction out of the way first.

Scott’s shoulders are tense. He can probably already hear the heartbeats of all the people in the room. Stiles kind of wants to comfort him, but he also knows that any comforting words he has to offer will be a lie, since it’s only natural for the humans to react negatively to a Wolf joining their society.

If anything, Stiles himself is a great example of that.

When they enter the room and people notice them, there’s a collective gasp. As one, they stop what they’re doing and stare, hard and without any shame. It comes as no surprise to Stiles when Jackson is the first one to speak up.

Jackson – dramatic asshole that he is – stands up from his seat and scowls at them, exuding an aura of displeasure. “Can someone please explain to me why the goddamned shifter is still alive?”

Since the Hunters were the only ones allowed to guard and interact with Scott until today, the rest of HR had no idea what happened to the guy after he was caught. Though, given by the glares directed their way, it isn’t hard to imagine what they assumed had happened.

He has to bite down on a smug grin when his dad sighs heavily at Jackson’s disrespectful outburst. This is going to be good.

“ _Scott_ ,” his dad stresses meaningfully, daring anyone to say otherwise with a stern look, “is one of us now. He’s Mrs McCall’s son and frankly, he’s a good kid. The Council has made their decision and it’s final.”

His dad lets his eyes go around the room, letting his words sink in. They harden when they fall back on Jackson. “Now Whittemore, can you please explain to _me_ why the hell you’re sitting on your snobby ass instead of fixing the downstairs bathroom sink like I asked you to?”

Jackson visibly pales and clears his throat before hightailing it out of the room. Every other person in the room seems to be speechless.

“Dude, remind me never to get on your dad’s bad side,” Scott whispers to him.

Someone snorts behind them and Stiles looks over his shoulder to find that it’s Cole.

“I honestly don’t get how you people could ever fear such a puppy,” the guy comments casually.

Scott frowns. “I’m not a puppy.”

“Well ...” Stiles trails off when his dad raises an eyebrow at them.

“Are you boys ready to continue or what?”

He clears his throat. “Yes Sir.”

They follow the man through to the next room. He doesn’t look over his shoulder to check, but he has a feeling their departure is watched with animosity and a great deal of suspicion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys, but I'm almost cursing myself for making this such a slowburn. Hang in there though, we're ALMOST THERE!


	10. Derek: Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bonus chapter to reward you all for being so incredibly patient with me ^-^ And a huge thank you to everyone who has left kudos, comments, or has shown support in any other way so far, it means a lot to me!

_July, 2214_

It’s been weeks.

Weeks of walking around in his full Wolf form. Endless days of searching. Searching for food. Searching for shelter. Searching for a fucking way out of this.

Derek is lost.

He has healed since his car accident, the wound on his head having sealed itself shut a couple of hours after he let his Wolf out. At least he thinks so. He was unconscious at the time, there’s no way to know for sure. He does remember being extremely disoriented when he woke up, causing him to stumble further into the surrounding woods, completely loosing track of how to get back to civilization.

Were he thinking with his human mind right now, he’d point out how utterly pathetic it was for him to not be able to find his way out of there. He should be able to tell by smell, or just come up with a logical solution, trace his own steps back to the road.

But he isn’t thinking as a human. For the first time in years, the Wolf is in control and he simply cannot find it in himself to change back yet. It’s almost like he rediscovered a piece of himself. It feels amazing.

You know, apart from the desperate need for food and shelter.

It’s not all bad. He can hunt, he _knows_ how to hunt, it’s instinctual. But the nights get cold and without a den to retreat to when the sun’s gone, he needs to get creative. He mostly tries to stay in the vicinity of the stream he found, ensuring he at least has water in this Godforsaken forest.

Derek is positive that he’s slowly losing his mind.

Sometimes, early in the morning – the afternoon too, on rare occasions – he is sure he can pick up noises. Not just animals, either. The Wolf would categorize the scent as prey, which it doesn’t. So maybe other people, then. Maybe he has unknowingly entered a foreign pack’s territory. How they’d ever survive in this stupid maze of trees is a mystery to him, though.

The hours go by slowly. More days pass. Days turn into more weeks.

He can track – well, tries to track – the time passing by following the courses of the sun and moon. The moon especially has been a great way to figure out how long he’s been stuck here.

He should really try harder to get out of here. Or at least, you know, do _something_. Anything useful, like figuring out what the hell he’s going to do next. Build a den? Find people? Return to his human skin?

He quickly abandons that thought. The idea of having to walk around in this green hell naked is even worse than continuing as a Wolf.

He sighs and trots back to his temporary den near the bank of the stream. There’s a hollow that at least provides some kind of roof over his head and it gets him out of the harsh wind. He lies down and lowers his head onto his front paws, gazing at the moon.

A sense of longing fills him unexpectedly. He misses his pack. They must be worried about him, now that they haven’t heard from him in such a long time. He wonders what they’re doing. Are they already looking for him? And if they are, will they even be able to find him?

He whines softly, surprised by how weak it sounds.

And that thought more than anything, is what clears his mind and makes him decide to find a way out of there the next morning. He is a Hale, damn it. He’s better than this. He can fix this, on his own. Just watch him.

 


	11. Stiles: The Raid

_August, 2214_

 

It takes about a month for the people at HR to completely get used to Scott. Whatever the guy might say, he really is kind of a puppy. People caught on to that pretty quickly and as they gradually realized the boy wouldn’t be a threat to them, they became less nervous around him and simply continued their lives as they were before the Wolf showed up.

Of course that doesn’t mean that Scott is everyone’s best friend all of a sudden – quite the opposite, to be honest – but Stiles is happy about the circumstances anyway. Finally having made a friend might have something to do with it. Surprisingly, having Scott as a roommate isn’t half as bad as he thought it would be. In fact, he would even dare to say that their relationship is touching best friend territory.

Unfortunately, given how close the two of them have become, Scott is now also able to tell when something is bothering him. Or maybe it’s just a Wolf thing. Whatever it is, it means that when Stiles becomes uncharacteristically quiet and nervous over the course of the next week, Scott notices.

The boy finally brings it up during breakfast. “What’s going on, Stiles?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re nervous about something. Acting shifty. Is there something wrong?”

He sighs. “Oh, that. Yeah, it’s uh ... the monthly raid is coming up.”

Scott looks puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“Once a month some of the Hunters drive out to one of the Wolf villages at night to raid a couple of stores. We can grow and build a lot of stuff down here, but some things we just need to get from the outside. Think toilet paper and stuff like that or, you know, condoms.”

He shrugs. “It’s never really been a problem or anything, but I’m not allowed to go. Only the veteran Hunters like my dad and Bono are allowed to raid. And I hate it, you know? I just really don’t like my dad being out there with the shifters, while I’m stuck here waiting for him to come back safely.”

Scott has a look in his eyes that prompts Stiles’ curiosity. “What?”

“Well ... This is probably going to get me in trouble, but what if _I_ went on a raid instead of them? I mean, I’m already a Wolf. I won’t be in any danger, because they won’t suspect anything. I could just walk into a store and get all the things you guys need.”

“That’s...” He frowns. “Oh my God, that’s brilliant.”

“Thanks,” Scott beams. Not a puppy, his ass.

He takes Scott down to the Council Office after breakfast to discuss it with his dad. They are hunting the evening shift today, so the man should be working in the office until then.

Stiles knocks on the door and enters after he gets permission, Scott right behind him.

“Hey boys,” the man greets them. “What can I do for you?”

He curses the fact that his dad is not the only Representative in the office. Mr Whittemore – less of an ass than his son, but still far from Stiles’ favourite person – is there to represent the Fixers, Finstock for the Farmers and Morrell for the Teachers.

He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck before meeting his dad’s eyes again with renewed determination. “Scotty here had a good idea I wanted to share with you.”

The man nods for him to continue, so he tells him what Scott told him earlier. “It’s a great plan,” he adds at the end. “Plus, it’s a lot safer for him to go then it is for you guys.”

Mr Whittemore frowns, eyeing Scott dubiously. “Don’t you think that sounds a little suspicious?”

“With all due respect Sir,” Scott speaks up, stepping further into the room and to Stiles’ side, “I just feel like I should pay you all back somehow. I want to do something. Feel useful. That’s all.”

“We understand that Scott, but you do realize what a risk we would be taking with letting you out, don’t you?” Morrell asks. “How do you feel about this, John?”

His dad hums. “It would be a hell of a lot easier for Scott to get the stuff we need, they’re right about that.”

“So let’s make him our grocery boy,” Finstock pipes up, leaning back in his chair. He shrugs when the other councilmembers give him surprised looks. “What? He could get us the good stuff! Do you even remember the last time we had a real desert? I don’t know about you, but I would kill for some goddamned cupcakes!”

Stiles’ dad rolls his eyes and Morrell looks like she’s fighting a smile.

“Say we agree to this, how will we know you’ll come back without giving up our location to the Wolves?” Mr Whittemore asks.

Stiles knows that was the wrong thing to say before he even turns to Scott. The guy looks seriously pissed and Stiles winces when his eyes change to gold.

“Scott,” John warns, his hand reflexively reaching for the gun at his hip.

Scott reins the Wolf back in, but the growl is still present in his voice when he answers. “My mom is here. I became a goddamned shifter to save her and you seriously dare to ask me if I would put her in danger like that?”

“Fair enough,” Mr Whittemore acknowledges, raising his hands. “John?”

“We’ll get the Council together and vote on it,” the man decides. “I’ll come find you two when we’ve reached our decision.”

They nod and leave the room again. Stiles really hopes they’ll agree. He really believes Scott could do this for them. He trusts the guy. The question is if the others trust him enough to let him do this.

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out he didn’t have to worry. His dad finds them the next day after breakfast and tells them that the Council agreed to let Scott go on a raid instead of the veteran Hunters. Well, Stiles guesses it’s more like grocery shopping than a raid now, but who cares?

Scott is immediately led to the first floor, where Stiles’ dad tells him where to find the van. It’s some very high-tech car they stole once. They somehow managed to hide its scent from the Wolves; Stiles has no idea how, but it has worked so far.

After a set of thorough instructions and an honest to God _grocery list_ (Stiles would bet money on Finstock having something to do with that), Scott leaves. Stiles and his dad watch him go.

“Are we really sure this was a good idea?” he can’t help but ask.

The man shrugs, but Stiles can tell he’s somewhat nervous, too. “I guess we’ll find out in a couple of days.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, the silent alarm goes off when Scott re-enters the territory. Some of the Hunters meet him outside to make sure he’s alone. Stiles isn’t allowed to come with them, since he’s ‘biased’. His dad and some other Hunters in his crew even stayed behind to make sure he wouldn’t follow them outside. Whatever, he knows Scott will be fine.

Scott eventually comes back inside on his own, while the Hunters unload the truck of groceries. He looks anxious and Stiles feels dread pool in his stomach.

“What happened?” he asks before anybody else can.

The guy shakes his head. “Nothing yet, but there was a Wolf walking around near the edge of the territory, fully shifted. He didn’t see or smell me, he was still too far away, but I noticed him. He looked lost.”

“Crap,” he mutters under his breath, and he hears his dad do the same.

“So now what?” Malia asks. Stiles would like to know as well. It’s the first time for both of them since joining the Hunters that a situation like this has arisen.

“We go to the control room,” Bono, one of the older Hunters, tells them. “See if we can get the Wolf on camera. He hasn’t triggered the alarm so far, so there’s no need to panic yet.”

They all go down to the control room, looking at the camera feed for any sign of the Wolf. So far, they don’t have much luck. It doesn’t really help that they don’t know where exactly to look. It might even have left the area already.

“There!” Scott exclaims suddenly, pointing at a black blob on the screen.

“Can you enlarge it?” his dad asks Braeden, who’s managing the control panel.

She nods and a few moments later they have a clear view of the Wolf. Stiles’ mouth falls open a little, surprised at the impressive size of the thing. Another part of him is thrilled to finally see a Wolf in real life. Well, real on camera. Semantics.

“It hasn’t reached the trigger range of the alarm yet, has it?” Cole wonders aloud, immediately receiving a glare from his dad and Braeden. Stiles is confused until the alarm goes off.

“Every damn time,” Braeden mutters, cuffing the back of Cole’s head.

“Let’s go,” his dad says, directing the group. “Stiles, Malia, I need you two to stay here with the other team.”

“What?”

“You’re not going out there today, kid,” Cole clarifies.

“Wha – of course I am,” he sputters indignantly.

“The Wolf is in full shift, Stiles,” his dad says sternly. “It’s huge. It’s too dangerous.”

“Now wait a damn second! I’m the one who caught Scott, remember? I can handle this!”

“Scott wasn’t fully shifted. Plus, he wasn’t a threat, not really. The situation is different now.”

This is just – no. “ _Seriously?_ You’ve got to be kidding me. Dad, this is ridiculous!”

Cole puts a hand on Stiles’ neck and gives a firm, but gentle squeeze. “We’re just trying to keep you in one piece, kiddo.”

He half-heartedly swats the hand away and scowls. “Stop calling me that, you’re only like five years older than me. I can’t believe you guys don’t trust me enough to join the party.”

“Stiles,” his dad sighs. “We’re not doubting your abilities here, okay? But we need to be focused out there and I know I can’t do that if I’m also focused on you. I’ll have enough on my mind without trying to keep you and Malia safe out there.”

He really looks at the man then and finally notices the hard lines of worry on his dad’s face. It’s enough to make him feel kinda guilty for pushing. His dad has a point. He sighs, admitting defeat.

“Fine, I’ll stay.”

His dad nods and rounds up the other Hunters to go outside. Cole turns back to him before following them.

“I’m sure you’ll get the chance to see the Wolf once we’ve captured him, buddy.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grouses, shooing him away. “Go do your job and catch the fucker.”

The guy grins and winks at him. “No problem.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and turns back to the control panel. “This should be fun.”

 


	12. Derek: The Scent

_August, 2214_

 

Derek doesn’t know how long it’s been since he got lost. He still doesn’t know where he is or how to get back to civilization. What he _does_ know, is that he is going in the direction of ... well, something.

He can’t explain what it is exactly, but over the past few days he kept catching a whiff of a certain scent. Something meaningful. He’s pretty sure he has never smelled it before, yet something about it is oddly familiar.

Since he’s out of a plan or other options, he has been following the scent for the past days. He has a feeling he is getting closer. The scent is definitely getting stronger. The only set-back is that the forest is also getting thicker the closer he gets to the source of the scent.

The wind picks up, carrying another whiff of the scent his way. Still, all he can see around him is a sea of trees and foliage. The fallen leaves barely crinkle under his paws, the sound of his own breathing much louder to him. He can hear some insects humming, but he doesn’t know which ones. Nor does he care.

As he gets deeper into the woods, Derek notices that the animals around him become increasingly more quiet. He’s used to them hiding or fleeing whenever he comes close, but their heartbeats and scents seem to be changing, alerting him to the possibility that he might have company.

He sniffs the area and the scent he has been following is suddenly much stronger. He walks slowly, ears pricking up and eyes searching. He’s positive something is out there, but he just doesn’t hear anything. Suddenly a bird flies up and his head snaps in that direction. Just before it’s gone, he catches movement up ahead.

Every instinct inside of him is screaming at him to run, turn around and get the hell out of here. He barely reacts in time, an arrow flying past him at a frightening speed.

His limbs finally jerk into motion and he swiftly turns around, speeding off in the opposite direction.

This time, he _does_ hear sounds. More importantly, he can place the sound now; footsteps, multiple sets of them. He’s running and he’s sure he has a good advantage on them. The only problem is that he still has no idea where he’s going. And something tells him that these people know these woods like the back of their hands.

So absorbed in getting away, his senses completely focused on the people behind him, he fails to notice the two men in front of him and this time, he really does react too late. He skids to a halt and for one anxious moment, his mind frantically tries to come up with a plan to escape.

“Don’t move,” a voice behind him warns slowly. It’s a lot closer to him than he’d like.

There’s no way he’s getting out of here now. He can’t help it: he growls, even though he knows it will probably do him more bad than good.

“Your turn, Morris,” the same man behind him says.

Another man in front of Derek nods and points some kind of rifle at him. The man doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Derek with a cold look of determination in his eyes and takes aim.

Derek’s growl turns into a whine when a dart hits him in the side.

As soon as the burning sensation starts in his veins, spreading through his bloodstream fast, he knows they must have hit him with some kind of poison. His limbs give out beneath him and he stumbles to the ground, eyes drooping.

He drifts to unconsciousness, that oddly familiar scent cloying his nose.


	13. Interlude - Laura: The Disappearance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, I'm evil for keeping you guys in suspense for so long. I don't want to torture you guys too much, though, so next update will be Tuesday as usual :)

_August 2214_

 

It’s like Derek suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth. They haven’t heard from him for almost a month now. At first they figured he was just preoccupied with his journey, so they didn’t call him to demand where he was at. After weeks of silence, though, they couldn’t help themselves anymore and called Derek themselves.

He never picks up, though.

Her parents don’t want to jump to conclusions yet, but Laura can’t help but be worried. Even right now, in the middle of her date with Jordan. They’re at the gym again and training together. They’ve gone out a couple of times now, and it’s nice, but she’s been distracted lately and Laura is pretty sure he has noticed.

When he stops lifting weights and puts his hands on her shoulders instead to make her sit down, she’s sure he knows something’s up. He joins her on the bench and gives her a worried look.

“What’s on your mind, Laura?”

She sighs warily. “It’s my little brother. A few weeks ago he decided to leave for a while, but Derek hasn’t called for some time and I’m just worried, you know? What if something’s happened to him?”

“Hey, your brother is a big boy. He can take care of himself. Maybe he just needs some space.”

“I know that, and my parents have been saying the same thing, but it’s just so unlike him. It’s been too long since he’s contacted us. He would have called by now, or found another way if his phone died or something.”

“What about the pack bond? Can you still feel him?”

“Yeah, so we at least know he’s still alive, but ...” She shrugs. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t sit right with me.”

Jordan takes her hand in his and squeezes reassuringly. “Well, if you’re really that worried maybe you should go and look for him.”

“Yeah, maybe ...”

 

* * *

  

After saying goodbye to Jordan with the promise of a next date in the near future, Laura walks home on her own. It’s a beautiful day outside, with barely a cloud in the sky and a light, but pleasant breeze. She barely notices, though.

It doesn’t matter how often she tells herself to stop doing it, her mind just keeps drifting back to thoughts of Derek. She knows for sure that something’s going on. Something no one – including she herself – is allowing themselves to think of.

She’s about ten minutes from the family home when she feels like she’s being watched. She stops walking and turns around, but there’s no one behind her. Not that she can see, anyway. She sighs, too tired and stressed to deal with this shit.

She continues walking, then turns right at the next crossroad and turns back around, waiting right behind the corner. The woman who’s been following her startles when she rounds it as well and is met with Laura’s scowl from up close.

“Kate,” she huffs in annoyance. She should have guessed this would happen eventually. “What the hell do you want?”

“You know exactly what I want, Laura,” the older woman snaps. “I want some damn answers about Derek.”

Not for the first time, Laura has the strong urge to wrap her hands around the Lynx’s throat and throttle her.

“Well, you’re not getting them from me.”

Seriously, this woman just doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. When Derek had first told her about Kate’s slightly stalker-ish behaviour, she thought he was exaggerating. She quickly found out he wasn’t, though. The woman’s lucky that Derek was legal at the time, or Laura would have skinned her alive.

Besides, it isn’t like she knows much about Derek’s whereabouts to begin with right now. And why the hell is Kate even still in America? She would ask, but any second longer she has to spend with this woman is too much.

“I don’t appreciate it when people withhold information from me, Laura.”

She bristles and narrows her eyes. “Listen up lady, you’re in _my_ territory now. I don’t owe you any answers and since you’re apparently too dumb to take a hint from Derek himself; trust me when I tell you that he’s _not interested_.”

She flashes her eyes at the insufferable woman and walks past her without another word.

“I _will_ find a way to get my answers, Hale!” Kate yells at her retreating back.

“I would love to see you try,” she snaps back in a normal volume, knowing Kate will hear it.

 

* * *

 

When she finally arrives home, she quickly puts away her shoes and jacket and walks into the living room, joining her parents and Cora.

“Anything from Derek yet?” she asks in lieu of saying hello.

Her father shakes his head. “No.”

Laura takes a deep breath in an attempt to keep her growing frustration at bay. “Since you’re still sitting on your asses instead of doing something, I take it you still want to give him space?”

Neither of her parents answer, which is answer enough. Cora looks up from her tablet and seems to be slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Laura knows she doesn’t want to choose sides, and she won’t make her, but it would be nice if someone in this damned house would finally agree with her on this.

“We’ve been giving him space for the past weeks already,” she argues. “You know it’s not like him to ignore us like this. He’d fucking know we are worried about him.”

“Language,” her parents chastise in unison, and her mother sighs. “Look honey, I have a pretty strong feeling your brother is fully shifted right now. Maybe that’s why he isn’t answering his phone. He said he needed to figure himself out, and us pushing him won’t help anything.”

Her mother must see Laura’s disgruntled face, because she flashes her alpha eyes at her and continues in a much firmer tone.  “It’s not that I don’t care about him Laura, nor that I’m not worried. Don’t you dare even think that.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Laura apologizes grumpily. “I just hate feeling this useless.”

“I’m just trying to show your brother that I’m okay with him making his own decisions and that I trust him.”

She huffs, crossing her arms. “At what cost?”

“How about we wait until the end of the month,” her father suggests patiently. “Then we can put together a DEF team to search for him.”

It’s not a bad idea. The DEF, or Delta Elite Force, consists of their best Wolves, handpicked by their family throughout their Guardian reign. They’re not needed much, as she and her family are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, but in certain situations specially trained people are required and this is definitely one of them. She just doesn’t understand why they would wait any longer.

“Yeah.” She sighs, knowing it’s all she’s going to get for now. “That’s fine.”

She leaves the room and takes the stairs to the first floor. Instead of her own bedroom, she heads to Peter’s. She knocks, then marches inside, knowing her uncle won’t mind the intrusion. He’s sitting at his desk and has his chair already turned in her direction, fingertips touching in front of his chest and one eyebrow raised in question.

“Tell me you were being the sneaky bastard I love and listened in to that entire conversation?”

“Kiddo please,” he snorts. “Would I ever disappoint you?”

She smiles despite herself and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. “So tell me your opinion on the matter. Are we really going to sit here and wait while Derek might be in God knows what kind of trouble?”

“Of course not.” Peter smirks, like he’s been waiting for her to come to him for ages. Knowing him he probably has. She grins back, already prepared to agree with whatever her uncle is going to suggest.

“You should go and start a search party yourself,” he says. “You’re the Protégé of the Guardian of America, Laura. You might not have all the power yet, but that doesn’t mean you have none at all. That DEF team your father was talking about? You can assemble one yourself. Now, do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

She bites her lip, wracking her brain for an answer. She likes to think she knows Derek like nobody else. So where would her brother go?

“The last time we spoke he said he was just following his instinct and would drive in that direction.”

“So where would his instincts take him?” Peter asks. “Did he ever talk about places he’d like to visit?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Just, something quiet, without too many people. Nature, probably.”

“Right. That really narrows it down.”

“Oh, fuck you.” She stands up, pacing the floor.

“I need you to be more specific, Laura. _Think_. If you were him, where would you go?”

“I don’t _know_!” she growls, claws popping out in frustration.

“Yes you do. He must have mentioned something. He’s Derek. Knowing him, there must be about a million places and things he wants to see.”

She huffs. Peter’s right, there probably are a lot of places Derek would want to visit. Places with historic relevance, mostly. He’d also need to feel safe there, though. Since his Wolf is apparently leading him there ... Where would –

“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Maine. He’s going back to freaking _Maine!_ ”

Peter sighs. “Yeah, that sounds like something your brother would do.” He stands up and walks over to her. “So when do we leave?”

She smiles apologetically at him. “Actually, I need you to stay here, Peter.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“I need you to cover for me, okay? I have a feeling Mom will be pissed when she finds out that I’m defying her orders.”

Her uncle grimaces. “Fair enough.”

“I also want you to keep an eye on Kate Argent. She’ll definitely follow me if she notices me leaving.”

Peter growls, clearly agitated on her behalf. “Consider it done.”

She nods and stands back up. “Alright. I’ll leave first thing in the morning, then.”

“Okay,” he agrees, enveloping her in a warm hug. “Now go to your room before your mother figures out you’re not there.” She nods and heads out.

“And Laura?” he asks, making her turn back to him. “Please be careful.”

She smiles softly at him. “Always.”


	14. Derek: Captivity

Derek wakes up feeling groggy and with no idea of where he is. He could probably find out, but he’s still too tired – or drugged up, probably – to open his eyes enough to have a look around. He can hear the slightly muffled sound of people talking somewhere in the vicinity. There’s three of them, judging by the amount of heartbeats he can hear. His ears twitch out of reflex as he starts listening in at a random point in the conversation;

“... not awake yet anyway. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

“Ugh, you’re such a fun sucker sometimes,” a second voice huffs.

The first man sighs. “Don’t you two have work to do?”

Derek thinks he recognizes that voice, but his mind is still too slow to make the connection.

“Well, I do. But Scotty here doesn’t. Someone needs to keep him entertained.”

The man hums. “Yeah, we should probably do something about that soon. Finstock could probably use more help. Now please go and let me do my job. I need to check up on him.”

“I could h – ”

“I said get out of here, son.”

He hears two of the heartbeats leave while one stays behind, probably the older man. He kind of smells like the odd scent he’d been following. He also smells a Wolf, though. Maybe one of the people he was talking to was a shifter? It’s confusing.

On the bright side, at least he’s no longer lost in the woods now. He sighs. He should probably try to stay awake, but it just feels like too much effort. Curling up, he lets his mind drift back into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he wakes up, Derek is feeling decidedly better. His mind has cleared and after trying a couple of times, he can open his eyes completely. He’s lying on a thin mattress, back in his human form and covered with a blanket. The room is small, the walls bare. Aside from a table and chair, there doesn’t seem to be anything else in the room.

He initially thought he was alone, but then his nose catches that odd scent again and he snaps his head in that direction. There’s a man standing in the doorway.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

He recognizes the voice of the man as the one he eavesdropped on before and seeing him now, he remembers him. It’s the same man who ordered him to be shot in the woods. Derek bristles.

“My name is John Stilinski,” the man introduces himself casually, throwing some clothes in Derek’s direction. “You entered my territory uninvited, and since we like to be cautious here, we put you under. Can you tell me your name?”

Derek frowns, still trying to place the scent coming off the man. He clears his throat, voice raw from disuse. “Derek.”

John calmly continues. “Alright Derek. I want you to know that we don’t mean you any harm, unless you want to harm us. Do you?”

He shakes his head slowly. He’s never been the violent type. Short-tempered, sometimes. But never violent.

“I’m gonna need a verbal answer from you, Derek.”

“No.” His voice is still scratchy, so he clears his throat and tries again. “No, I won’t hurt you. Why would I?”

The man sends him a wry smile. “Well see, here’s the thing. We don’t like people knowing of the existence of this place, so that means you will either have to stay here voluntarily or as a prisoner.”

Right. Because that doesn’t sound shady at all. Very inviting, too. The man clearly knows how to sell this place. He frowns again. “Why?”

John looks surprised, then narrows his eyes at him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know _what?_ ” he huffs, failing to hide the frustration in his voice. On top of that, he’s still unable to place the scent and he finally snaps. “Who the hell _are_ you?” he demands. “ _What_ are you?”

John calmly places a gun into view, not yet aiming it at Derek, but the thought is implied. “I’m gonna need you to calm down, Derek.”

He takes a deep breath and nods, letting the tension leave his shoulders a bit, though he still feels incredibly unsettled.

“There you go,” John says approvingly. It’s equal parts nice and weird.

“So where are we, exactly?” Derek asks, more calm than before.

“We like to call it the bunker, or HR. Short for Human Resistance.”

Derek balks, positive he must have heard that wrong. There’s no way. Not a chance. His mind refuses to even acknowledge the possibility.

“That’s impossible,” he whispers.

John regards him with a raised eyebrow. “Is it?”

Derek thinks again. It’s impossible, yes, but ... it would explain why the scent was so familiar yet unknown to him before. So, maybe the man is telling the truth. But that doesn’t mean that it makes any kind of sense whatsoever.

“I –” he pauses and lets out a deep breath. “Humans are supposed to be extinct.”

John doesn’t say anything, just gives him time to think it over. And he suddenly realizes that his _dream_ has kind of come true, but this is not a scenario he could have ever imagined. It’s ridiculous. Maybe he’s dreaming. That would definitely make more sense. Maybe the stuff they shot him with is causing him to hallucinate?

That would certainly be more likely, wouldn’t it? Yet a small voice in the back of his head is screaming at him to accept the words as fact. Pushing him to take this opportunity with both hands. He has always wanted to find out more about their species. Now he can.

If the man is telling the truth, that is. Derek couldn’t hear a lie in his heartbeat, so surely that must mean he is, right? God, he has so many questions.

A teenaged boy enters the room then and Derek immediately recognizes his scent from before. He’s one of the two people John had been talking to. And he is indeed a Wolf. This is all so very, _very_ confusing.

When the teen spots him, Derek can hear his heart skip a beat in recognition as well. The boy gasps and John turns an inquiring eyebrow in his direction.

“What is it, Scott?”

“Sir, that’s Derek _Hale_.”

John looks like he has no idea what that means, and yet; “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Probably because his grandmother was one of the scientists involved with Project 6,” Scott explains, looking highly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “And his mom is the Guardian of America. He and his family are basically royalty out there.”

“Great,” John mutters, dragging a hand across his face. “That’s just perfect.”

“Should I tell the others?” the boy asks.

Derek almost misses John’s nod, too preoccupied with the fact that there are _others_. What the hell is this place? There’s no way this is real, right? For all these years, he’s been wishing that humans still existed and now this? It has to be too good to be true.

“Yeah,” John agrees. Scott is about to leave, but halts in his steps when John calls after him.

“Scott?”

The teen turns back around. “Yes?”

“Do me a favour and make sure Stiles doesn’t find out about this.”

The teen winces and nods his head. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

He leaves and the two of them watch as he goes, Derek wondering what the hell a ‘stiles’ is supposed to be.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next few days, Derek can make out a pattern in his days. There are no windows in his room, so the only way for him to keep track of the time is by counting the meals that are brought to him. Well, there’s one other thing. The people that keep him company – or what he suspects are his guards (so unnecessary) – seem to take shifts. There’s always one of them with him in the room, and another further on in the hallway. The food they give him isn’t like he’s used to at home, but it is the same food the guards eat so at least they’re treating him right.

He’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that humans are actually _real_. The more days go by, the more curious he becomes about what lies beyond this room. He could probably ask, but something tells him he wouldn’t get an answer out of his guards anyway. John would probably tell him, but he hasn’t been back since that first day.

He wonders what the hell happened to these people. To the human race in general. As far as he knows, everyone got turned into a shifter after Project 6 was carried out. Apparently that assumption was completely wrong. He doesn’t get it. Shouldn’t this knowledge be out there? Or maybe it is, and it is kept from general society? That makes more sense, though he still doesn’t understand why _he_ doesn’t know about it then.

He sighs and turns his head to the door, where a man of about thirty years old is holding guard. He has a gun in his lap, and Derek is sure he’s ready to use it if the need arises. He grimaces. The man looks like a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy. He’s still curious, though ... and honestly kind of bored. He clears his throat.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

The man regards him with an unimpressed expression, quickly turning into a scowl when Derek gives him a pointed look back.

“No.”

Alright then. Not surprising, really.

He kind of wishes the teenaged Wolf will come back, since Derek hasn’t seen him since that first time. It is a shame, because he has _so_ many questions and he would feel a lot more comfortable asking a fellow Wolf than the humans, as sad as that admission makes him.

It’s just that most of his guards aren’t exactly what he would call ‘friendly’ towards him. There’s an air of distrust around them. Also a lot of anxiety, and sometimes a hint of fear. Which is ridiculous because a) he already told them he means no harm, and b) claws are utterly useless in a gunfight. Apparently these people didn’t get the memo.

He hums under his breath. Maybe humans aren’t as smart as his books made them out to be. Then again, they did somehow manage to hide the fact that they’re apparently not extinct for all these years.

He wonders again if there’s anyone in his world – because let’s face it, they are definitely living in two different worlds – knows about the humans. He figures that if anyone does, it must be the Guardians. But if they do, why the hell would they have kept that from him?

... On second thought, it’s probably because they know him. If he had known there were still humans around, he would have definitely gone looking for them eventually. Follow his dreams. Only, the humans in his dreams are a lot different from the ones he has met here. Happier and a lot less scowly-faced. He wonders if they’re putting some of that poison in his food or something, because scowly-faced? Totally something Cora would say. He whines softly, suddenly overcome by a sense of loss and home-sickness. His family must be going out of their minds.

He lies back on his mattress and turns his body towards the wall, ignoring the asshole keeping watch. He wonders what his family is thinking. If they realize he’s gone – yes, of course they will have. They’re all fiercely protective of each other. Especially Laura. He hopes none of them will decide to do anything stupid.

He must have dozed off for a bit, because he startles awake when a young man relieves the other guard of his duty for the day. He’s about Derek’s age and he’s seen the guy about once or twice before. The guy has never said a word to him, though. He enters the room with two plates of steaming hot food in his hands and hands one of them to Derek.

“Enjoy,” the man says, taking Derek by surprise. “What?”

“Nothing, just,” he clears his throat, pushing the food on his plate around, “didn’t expect you to talk to me.”

The guy smirks. “Eh, don’t take it personally. We’re just a little wary of Wolves around here.”

He scoffs. “Right.”

“So, your name’s Derek, right?” the man asks between a few bites of his food.

He nods. “Yeah. Who’re you?”

“Cole.”

Cole doesn’t offer anything else, so Derek decides to say fuck it and ask some questions instead now that someone is finally talking to him again.

“So this place ... you call it HR? Because you’re all human? How many of you are there?”

Cole tilts his head to the side and regards him in silence for a while. “Yeah, it’s the Human Resistance. Might be more of them out there, I don’t know.” He takes a couple of more bites of food and smirks when Derek keeps staring at him expectantly. “That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“For all we know you might be a spy, Derek,” Cole says. “We’ve learned to be cautious.”

He hums and returns his attention to his food. Looks like his questions aren’t getting answered today after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: next chapter is the one you’ve all been waiting for :P AND I'll probably be able to post it somewhere this week!


	15. Stiles: The Perpetrator

He wakes up that morning when 7-A goes off, blinking his eyes open slowly. Scott groans and buries his head under his pillow. The alarm is probably a lot louder to him than to the rest of them, so Stiles is definitely sympathetic. When the alarm stops – which thankfully never takes long – Scott uncovers his face and meets his eyes.

“Morning,” he mumbles sleepily.

As it turns out, it is surprisingly easy to get used to living with a Wolf. Well, for Stiles. He’s the only one actually sharing a room with one. The other people in the bunker kind of ignore him or stay clear from him. And he gets that, he does, they just need time. Honestly, he completely expected himself to be one of those people. But he’s not.

At first, he’d been surprised every time Scott would comment on a certain smell, or something only he could hear (which happened a lot). It was all very new to Stiles, but he soon got accustomed to the little mannerisms.

“Morning.” Stiles’ voice is sleep-rough and it takes a Herculean effort to keep his eyes to stay open. He yawns loudly and smiles when he catches Scott do the same. He thought he’d miss having a room to himself, but it’s actually nice to wake up with someone else. Or maybe that’s just because of Scott, who is still a total puppy. Stiles has grown quite fond of him.

They get up and join the line in front of the bathroom to go through their morning routine. They wait until they’re both done and walk to the kitchen together to have breakfast.

“You going to help out the Farmers again today?” Stiles asks when they sit down with their food.

Scott nods. “Yeah, probably. Coach said he could use my enhanced strength again.”

“Yeah, I bet he did.” He hums. “We should probably find you a permanent job sometime soon, since you’re obviously staying with us now. Have you thought about what you want to do?”

He shrugs. “A little. I wouldn’t mind following in my mom’s footsteps, actually. I’m thinking about asking her and Deaton to teach me.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, you could definitely do that. We could use another Doctor.”

“Sure, I just don’t know if everyone else will feel the same. They probably won’t be very excited about having a shifter treat their health issues. Most of them still don’t trust me.”

“They just need some time,” he promises. “Trust me, once they get used to you and get to know you a little better, they’ll be jumping at the chance to be your patient.”

Scott nudges him under the table. “Thanks, buddy.”

 

* * *

 

 

When he meets up with his crew for the hunt that day, he is surprised when his dad tells Cole to stay behind. Apparently Aron – one of the veteran Hunters in their crew – has caught a cold so his dad doesn’t want him on duty to guard the Wolf.

“I need you to take over his shift,” his dad tells Cole. He says it nicely, but they all know it’s an order. Stiles glances at Cole’s face and given his expression, the man wants to argue. Not that he does, of course. They all know better than to argue with Stiles’ dad.

“Damn,” he sighs dejectedly. “I was looking forward to going outside today.”

His dad gives him a rueful smile. “Sorry, kid. Not today.”

“I could do it,” Stiles offers before he’s even realized he wants to. “I’ve been on guard duty before, it’s not a problem.”

His dad sends him a pointed glare. “Nice try. We both know that you remember what I told you. You’re going outside, and that’s final.”

Oh, he remembers. _No guard duty for Stiles._ It pisses him off, big time. They still won’t let him see the damn Wolf and refuse to give him a good reason why. Not that they didn’t give him a reason at all. They did, he just doesn’t believe that it’s the whole truth. They’re hiding something from him.

He channels his frustration in the hunt, using it as motivation, and he and Malia end up with a good haul that day. Stiles is pleased to find that she’s getting better at the job, and the two of them have become quite a good team. They never return to the bunker empty handed.

When they get back and have brought their haul to the butchery, he takes a quick shower so he can wash the dirt and sweat off his body. After that, he goes in search of Scott. Since the guy told him he’d probably be working with Finstock again today, he heads in the direction of the greenhouse first. On his way there, he hears two voices arguing in a corridor up ahead. He silently inches closer and stops when he recognizes the voices of Scott and Cole.

“... bad idea. You know John told us to keep our mouths shut.”

“He deserves to know, Scott!” Cole insists and by the tone of his voice Stiles can picture the accompanying scowl. He also quickly realizes the conversation is about him. He steps around the corner and makes himself known by speaking up.

“Deserve to know what?”

The two men look at each other and then pretty much anywhere else, except Stiles’ eyes. It’s infuriating and frankly, his patience is wearing thin.

“Did you know he was there?” Cole hisses at Scott, like he’s thinking Stiles won’t be able to hear him. Idiot.

Scott huffs. “I should have.”

“Guys!” Stiles snaps. “I’m standing right here! What the hell is going on?”

“Sorry Stiles, but we can’t tell you,” the Wolf says, eyes downcast but resolute. Stiles looks at Cole instead.

“Cole? You said it yourself man, I deserve to know.”

He sighs. “Look Stiles, I totally agree with you and I want to tell you, but I can’t have your father be pissed at me.” Which, fair enough. Stiles can’t blame him there. “I won’t stop you from asking him yourself, though.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. How helpful. “I’ll do that.”

He turns on his heels and heads towards the stairs, descending to the third floor. He rolls his eyes when he hears a second pair of boots on the stairs behind him. Of course Scott followed him. Stiles ignores him when he tries to convince him not to ask his dad for an explanation.

“Seriously Stiles, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He stops and makes a sharp turn, facing Scott a few steps above him. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll probably go mental when you find out?” Scott throws his hands up in frustration. “Trust me man, we have a good reason for not telling you.”

He shakes his head. “Now I’m even more convinced to figure it out, buddy.”

Scott sighs. “Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that.”

Scott doesn’t follow him inside when they reach the Council Office. Stiles knocks on the door and enters when his dad calls for him to come in, closing the door behind him. His dad is the only one present.

“Do you have a moment?”

The man looks up from his work and seems to read Stiles’ face, because he narrows his eyes and says: “Depends on what this is about.”

Seriously, his dad should know better than to try and play it like this. It’s fine, he’ll just refrain from beating around the bush, then.

“You’re keeping something from me.” He crosses his arms, meeting his father’s glare head-on. “Something big. I wanna know what it is.”

His dad lets out a deep sigh. “Stiles – ”

“Don’t ‘Stiles’ me!” he snaps. “First you won’t let me help to capture the Wolf, then you forbid me from going on guard duty and now everyone’s being all secretive. What the hell is going on?”

“First you’re going to use a different tone with me,” his dad chastises, a stern set to his face.

Stiles sags into a chair and buries his face in his hands for a second. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

His dad grunts out an okay.

He nods and puts his hands in his lap, meeting his father’s eyes. “Please tell me. I hate it when you keep secrets from me.”

“It’s not a secret, exactly.”

“Just a secret from me, then?”

“Kid, I’m only trying to protect you here.”

He gets that, he does, but they both know him. If he doesn’t get his answers now, he’ll only go looking for answers elsewhere on his own. Let’s just say that usually doesn’t end well for either of them.

“Dad, please.”

The man takes a deep breath. “Fine, alright. But I want you to know that this doesn’t change anything. I still don’t want you to be on guard duty or to even visit the guy until I say so. Are we clear?”

He nods, and at his father’s raised eyebrow he gives a verbal response as well. “Yeah, we’re clear.”

“Good. Now try not to freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?”

His dad sighs again. Stiles seems to bring that out of him a lot lately. “Do you remember the stories about Project 6? About how we ended up here?” When Stiles nods in confirmation, he continues. “Well, it turns out the Wolf we caught is the grandson of one of the scientists who were involved with the Project. His name is Derek Hale.”

His dad is about to say something else, but Stiles holds up his hand to stop him. “ _Hale?_ ”

He jumps up from his chair. He knows that name, okay? He knows it very well. After his mom’s death, he had a lot of anger to get rid of. He could have just been angry at the world, sure. But it felt a lot better to be angry at the Hale family. After all, it’s their fault that humans have to hide their existence. It’s their fault they didn’t have the medicine to save his mom. It’s their fault she’s dead.

“You’re telling me that we’ve caught a _Hale_ , a member of the family that _killed Mom_ , and he’s still alive?” he demands incredulously.

“He didn’t choose his family, Stiles.”

“Yeah well, he didn’t do anything to change them, either!”

“We don’t know that.”

“You’ve got to be ki – ” He breaks himself off when he catches the disapproving look on his dad’s face. “So now what? You’re just gonna let him go?”

“Of course not. You know that’s not an option.”

“Then what?”

“I gave him a choice. Stay here voluntarily and join our society, or stay here in captivity.”

“And?”

“He hasn’t decided yet.”

“Oh, right.” He huffs, shaking his head. “Sure. Awesome.”

“I meant what I said, Stiles. I want you to stay away from him.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” he sighs. “I’ll get out of your hair now. See if they need my help in the butchery or something.”

“That sounds like a plan. You look like you want to slaughter something.”

“I’m thinking more about some _one_ , but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Get out of here, son.”

He does just that, but his dad’s voice stops him when he reaches the door. “Love you.” He thinks about just walking out, but he can’t make himself do it. He sighs.

“Love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles really is a terrible person sometimes. He knows that, everybody else knows that, but sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Which is exactly why he’s standing in front of Hale’s holding cell the next day. He bribed his way past the first guard in the corridor and now he only needs the one inside to cooperate with him. He sighs in relief when he sees that it’s Cole.

The man looks up when he hears Stiles reach the entrance to the room and immediately his face turns into a scowl.

“What the hell, Stiles?”

“Cole, could you give us a moment alone, please?”

“Kid, what the hell are you _doing_ here?” Stiles merely meets his eyes with a stoic expression and the guy sighs longsuffering. “Five minutes ... and you’d better make sure your dad doesn’t hear about this.”

Stiles doesn’t react to that and enters the room completely, adopting a confident stance and stretching out to his full height, towering over Hale. The Wolf is sitting on a mattress in the corner, regarding Stiles curiously. He looks a lot younger than Stiles expected. He would guess he’s in his early twenties, despite the rough stubble-inching-towards-a-beard he’s got growing on his face. The others were right about one thing though; this shifter looks a lot more intimidating than Scott ever could.

“Derek Hale ...,” he says slowly, adding a low whistle. “What an honour.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” the Wolf asks slowly, eyebrows moving into a frown.

“I don’t know, am I? You’re the Wolf, you tell me.”

“What do you want?”

He raises his hands, smirking. “Just want to talk.”

The guy sends him an impressive scowl. “So talk.”

Well, if he wants to play it hostile like that, fine. “I’m sure my dad has given you the choice by now to either stay here voluntarily and submit to us or, you know, let us kill you. Now I really wouldn’t mind if you chose the latter, but just in case you do decide to stay here, I want you to know that I’ll be watching you. Some of the people here might be willing to trust you now, but I’d sooner die than become one of them.”

“... Are you threatening me?”

“You bet your hairy ass I am.” Stiles sneers, then leaves the room, throwing a wink over his shoulder. “Sleep tight, Hale.”

 


	16. Derek: The Humans

“You make your choice yet?” Cole asks conversationally. The guy is sitting with his back against the door, gun lying in his lap. He has his legs crossed and is munching on an apple, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Had he been human, Derek would probably have believe it.

He’s a Wolf though, so all his extra senses are telling him that the opposite is true. He can see the rigidity in the man’s muscles, hear the slightly quicker thumping of his heart. He can smell the faint hint of sweat on him, the nervous kind. Derek knows that if he makes one wrong move, the guy would be on him in a second, without a moment’s hesitation. Of course he still doesn’t mean any of these people any harm, but their fear seems to be even more deep-seated than Derek could have imagined.

“Hey,” Cole draws his attention. “I asked you a question.”

He sighs. “I don’t know yet.”

“Don’t know what you want?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Does he want to get out of this room? – of course he does. Does he want to get back to his family, let them know that he’s still alive? – definitely. That’s not really an option though, is it? John only gave him two; either join their society voluntarily (still with guards on his ass, he’s sure) or remain in captivity. So really, he’s screwed either way.

If he’s being honest though, really being honest, he has to admit that maybe joining their society wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He can’t deny that his curiosity is peaked. This could be a chance. A chance to learn more about the species that he has been obsessed about for so long now, always thinking it was too late to really get to know them.

But now he can.

His family, his _pack_ , comes first though. Even though he chose to leave them for a while to figure himself out, he doesn’t want them to worry. He promised to keep them updated on his whereabouts and he hasn’t in a while, so they must be freaking out. He owes it to them to let them know he’s alright.

Maybe he could fight his way free? He’s a shifter, he should definitely be able to take them on, even if they outnumber him by a lot. Then again they seem to know their way around weapons and have stuff that can poison and/or kill him, so yeah maybe not. Besides, they _do_ have a Wolf of their own.

Given the circumstances, it may be the best decision to agree to stay here and become part of their society. He’s pretty sure they’ll still treat him with suspicion even if he chooses to stay voluntarily, at least in the beginning, but he will be able to observe them. He’ll be able to learn from them. He’ll be able to earn their trust, if he plays it right. All he has to do is be patient. He knows his family. They’ll come for him. It might take a while, but they _will_ find him. All Derek has to do is wait and be ready when the time comes.

 

* * *

 

 

Instead of breakfast the next day, he receives a visit from John. He enters the room and asks the man on guard duty – Bono? – if he and Derek can have a moment alone. Bono nods his head in acknowledgement and leaves them to it. Derek can still clearly hear his heartbeat though, so he knows the man hasn’t gone far.

“So,” John says, taking a seat on the floor and crossing his legs. “Do you have an answer for me?”

He nods. “I do, Sir.”

The man raises an inquiring eyebrow when Derek doesn’t say anything else. “Well? Care to clue me in?”

“I think I want to stay.” He clears his throat. “I _do_ want to stay. I’d like to get to know your people.”

John hums. “What about your family, though? You can’t expect me to believe you’re just okay with all this. Even if we let you join our little society, it still won’t be easy on you. There will be a lot of prejudice, probably some hatred. Then there’s the fact that there will always be someone with a weapon around to make sure you don’t make a break for it. Now, I like you well enough Derek. You’re a good man and I trust you, but I need to make sure that you know what you’re getting into here.”

“With all due respect, Sir,” Derek says, meeting the man’s eyes with a steady gaze, “It still beats being a prisoner. Me and my Wolf are getting restless, and to be honest I’m bored out of my mind.”

The revelation brings a small smile to the man’s face. “Fair enough,” he nods. “So that’s your final answer, then?”

Derek nods his head yes. “It is.”

John stands up, taking a moment to brush some dust or whatever off his pants and then turns back to Derek. He holds out a hand to help Derek up from the mattress he’s sitting on and he takes it. When they’re both standing, John lets go of his hand and lays one on his shoulder instead.

“Welcome to the Human Resistance, Derek,” the man says with an easy smile on his face. “How about some breakfast?”

Derek smiles back, excited to _finally_ get out of this room and see what the rest of this place looks like. The prospect of seeing more humans makes him almost giddy.

“I could eat, Sir.”

“Call me John,” the man says and turns around to lead the way. Derek follows closely behind him. They meet Bono in the hallway and the man does not look amused to see Derek. He levels a glare at John.

“Seriously?”

John sighs. “Yes, seriously.”

The man grunts in displeasure. “At least tell me he’ll still have guards on him?”

“For now,” John agrees. “And if you or any of the others antagonize him to get him to snap, I will hold you guys responsible for the consequences. He may be a Wolf, but he’s a person first. At least try to remember that.”

“Fine,” Bono huffs, rolling his eyes. “But don’t come crying to me when your furry friend here turns against us.”

John doesn’t dignify that with a response and continues their journey to wherever they can get breakfast. Derek isn’t surprised to hear Bono follow a few paces behind them, undoubtedly to keep an eye on him. He wonders what Wolves ever did to these people to earn this much distrust.

John leads them up two flights of stairs before they finally reach the kitchen. All the while, Derek has been trying to soak up as much details as possible. He mostly just saw closed doors, though. He’ll have to ask for a tour or something later. The kitchen also has a bunch of long, wooden lunch tables, so it probably doubles as a dining room.

It takes Derek a moment to realize that the whole room has gone quiet. A whole room of humans, the people who he used to dream about meeting, and all of them looking at him with varying expressions of shock, anger or – and this might be the worst one yet – fear.

The smell of fear is especially potent at a table near wear Derek is standing and he turns his head in that direction to check for the source. There’s two little kids, looking at him with matching expressions, eyes blown wide and bodies rigid.

The young girl, she can’t be more than ten years old, gulps audibly and shifts so that she’s standing in front of the little boy. She takes a deep breath and meets John’s eyes.

“Is that the Wolf, Mr John?” she asks, a slight tremor in her voice.

Derek hates that she seems to be so afraid of him. She doesn’t even know him, none of these people do. For the vast majority of them, this is the first time they’ve even seen him. And sure, he probably looks way more intimidating than the other Wolf, but it’s still unfair. He loves kids. Not that that is likely to make a damn difference right now.

“Yes it is, Holly,” John answers her question. “His name is Derek and he will be living with us from now on, just like Scott.” Even though his words are said to the girl, Derek knows they are directed to the room at large. The girl doesn’t look reassured.

A young man walks up to her and lays a protective hand on her shoulder. Derek immediately recognizes him as the guy who threatened him not too long ago. Stiles, he thinks his name was. He’s also supposedly John’s son, though he trusts John a great deal more than the arrogant teenager.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles tells her. “You’re safe. Derek won’t hurt us.”

His words are meant to be reassuring, but Derek hears the skip in his heartbeat that shows that the guy doesn’t really believe his own words.

“But what if he does?”

“Then he’ll have to go through me first,” he promises, meeting Derek’s eyes when he says it.

He scowls. God, he really can’t stand this guy. He doesn’t understand what he ever did to the teen to deserve this treatment. Or maybe he’s just fucking prejudiced. That wouldn’t be surprising.

“In any case,” John butts in with a small sigh and a quick glare at his son, “Derek is one of us now, so I expect all of you to treat him as such. If by some miracle anyone feels obliged to voluntarily take him as a roommate, come find me after breakfast. Now shut your mouths and eat.”

There’s a chorus of murmured responses throughout the room, but at least they avert their eyes from Derek and continue their breakfast. It’s a small relief. John leads them to a lady at the cooking station and asks for two plates, then steers Derek to a table and places one of them in front of him.

“Bon appétit.”

 

* * *

 

 

In the end Derek doesn’t need to ask for a tour, because it turns out John was already planning on giving him one. Derek is suitably impressed with every new thing he encounters. They have nothing here, yet somehow they seem to have everything. There’s no TVs, or phones, or internet. No advanced technology. No luxury whatsoever.

But they have food. They have clothes. They have a place to live. It’s all so basic and Derek is convinced that most people out there in the real world would be scared out of their minds if they’d ever get the chance to see this. They would have no idea what to do with themselves if they ever ended up here. But for him … it’s literally a dream come true.

His books talked about how inventive the old humans were, or _are_ since they are still very much alive. How they can survive in any situation. Everything he’s seeing here proves that it’s true. John explains things as they go and Derek absorbs all the new information like a sponge.

They end the tour at the room Derek has been staying since he got here. Before he has a chance to voice his confusion, John speaks up to explain.

“Don’t worry, it’s just until the end of the day. If nobody has volunteered to take you in as a roommate by then, we’ll assign you one. Until then you’ll have to pass the time here, I’m afraid. You can go out for food and the bathroom, of course. The other stuff I would wait with for a while.”

“That’s alright,” he shrugs. He could use some time to let all the new impressions of today sink in, to process it all.

“Good,” John nods. “Bono will be in the hallway if you need anything.”

Derek is sure that they both know that Bono isn’t prepared to do jack shit for him, but he appreciates the sentiment. He tells the man he’ll be fine and enters his room once more. He lies down on his mattress and pillows his head on his arm, looking at the ceiling with a sigh.

With nothing better to do, he decides to make a mental list of the people he has met so far. The ones he likes on the one hand (John) and those he dislikes on the other (Bono and the other guards, Stiles). Then he tries to do a mental tour of the place again to see if he remembers where everything is.

Before dinner John comes back with a young man in tow, someone Derek hasn’t met yet. He’s pretty sure he saw him at lunch, though. He must be about 20 years old, definitely not older, even though he’s broad shouldered and impressive in posture. He looks like a no-nonsense kind of guy. Derek can appreciate that.

“Derek, this is Boyd,” John introduces them. To his complete astonishment, John then tells him that the guy volunteered to be his roommate. Derek doesn’t understand why the guy would do that, but he isn’t going to complain. When John leaves shortly after, Boyd shows him to their new room. It’s on the same floor, which is where all the bedrooms are. John explained earlier that everyone had to share a room because they simply didn’t have space to spare. Boyd must have had a roommate already too and Derek wonders what happened to him. He still has so many questions.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but ... why did you volunteer to room with me?” he asks when they’re inside the room they now share, Derek sitting on his new bed.

“I know what it’s like to be different. Figured you could use a friend.” Boyd shrugs, but then his face turns serious. “But if you so much at look at me wrong, I won’t hesitate to shower you in Wolfsbane.”

His heartbeat remains steady and the corner of Derek’s mouth curls up in a smile. He ducks his head to hide it.

“Noted.”

Boyd nods and shrugs. “Besides, me and my friends figured you look tame enough. Might be cool to hang out with a Wolf.”

“Gee, thanks. I guess.” He huffs. “So what happened to your old roommate?”

“Jackson got a room for himself. I would be jealous, but the guy snores like a chainsaw, so I’m pretty sure I got the best end of the deal here.”

They talk some more until Boyd suggests going to the kitchen to see if his mother has finished cooking dinner. Derek remembers John explaining how they have different working groups, all of them with one representative, Boyd’s mom in charge of the Cooks.

As they walk towards the kitchen, Derek can smell the food from a distance, all cooked and ready to be served. When they enter it, there are already quite a few people enjoying their meal, some of them still queuing to receive their plate of food. He and Boyd join the line. Once again, the room seems to quiet down as people become aware of Derek’s presence. It’s almost insulting.

“Just ignore them,” Boyd tells him. “It’s been a while since anything really exciting has happened around here. They’ll get used to you soon enough.”

Derek hums. He wonders why Boyd doesn’t seem to have any problems adjusting to his presence. Aside from John, he’s the first person to treat him like a human being instead of a monster. It’s refreshing. When they’ve received their food, Boyd leads them over to a table already occupied by three people; two girls and a boy, all seemingly around the same age as Boyd.

“Hey guys,” Boyd greets them as they join the group. “This is Derek.”

“I’m Jackson,” the guy introduces himself. “So you’re the man who’s going to sleep in my bed, hm?”

Derek nods. “Yeah ... sorry?”

Jackson huffs out a laugh. “No need man. Until one of the kids turns eighteen or someone manages to find HR, I’ll have a room to myself. Has its perks, you know?” He shares a look with the red-headed girl on his right. She rolls her eyes at him and continues the introductions.

“My name is Lydia, the blonde next to Boyd is Erica.” Erica winks at him and he nods in acknowledgement. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Derek says slowly. Lydia raises her eyebrows. He sighs. “It’s just ... I’m not really used to people around here being willing to hang out with me. Most of your people I’ve met so far have treated me with contempt.”

“Don’t worry about it. You seem like a cool dude.” Jackson points a fork at him. “But I’m really curious, so can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure.”

“What’s it like out there? You know, in the cities? What does the world look like? We were all either born down here or joined HR at a very young age, so all we know about the outside is from stories or pictures from the adults. It’s like a fairy tale to us.”

Derek is happy to oblige and answer his questions. He’s never been the most talkative person, but he’s honestly missed having a normal conversation with someone. What’s more, these people seem to be willing to listen. Things might work out in his favour.

He deliberates how to describe the modern world outside. To him it’s all normal, but how can he possibly explain it to people who’ve only ever seen this place? He wonders if they’ve ever even seen the sky. Felt the simple pleasure of sunlight on their skin. Whether they ever caught raindrops with their tongues. He’s afraid it will be insensitive to ask, though.

“The world out there is ... amazing.” He sighs, hoping it doesn’t sound too longing. “It’s so peaceful. It’s bright, when the sun is out and there aren’t too many clouds, and at night the sky turns into this beautiful canvas with millions of stars lighting it up. There’s such a wide array of colours out there compared to this place. And in winter, sometimes it will snow and everything will be covered in this dusty white powder. It’s one of the most beautiful and magical sights I’ve ever seen.”

“What about the cities?” Erica asks eagerly, listening to his words in awe.

“There are lots of different buildings, all with a different purpose. Cities are clean, like absolutely spotless. We use lots of materials that can clean themselves, or we use these robots called _Mandroids_ to do the work. We have cars that can drive you from one place to another, where the only thing you have to do is to give it a location. The technology is _so_ advanced. And there are shops where you can buy anything you can imagine, and – ”

He interrupts himself when he hears Lydia chuckle softly, looking at her in question.

“Sorry,” she says, lowering her voice. “Don’t look, but I’m pretty sure Holly is eavesdropping on your story from under the table over there.”

He takes a look from the corner of his eye and homes his senses in that direction. Lydia’s right, the little girl he met that morning is sitting under the table, her eyes trained on theirs. He’s not sure why she’s listening in, but he doesn’t mind. He decides not to acknowledge her in any case, unwilling to find himself accidentally scaring her again. This could be progress.

He’s momentarily distracted when he catches Stiles and Cole enter the kitchen, looking like they just showered. When Stiles sees him, his eyes narrow and he snaps his jaw shut, effectively cutting off the conversation he was having with Cole.

“What the hell is his problem?” Derek wonders aloud, mirroring Stiles’ scowl.

“What, Stilinski?” Jackson scoffs. “He’s weird. He’s always been kind of a loner, didn’t really fit in. Ever since he joined the Hunters when he turned eighteen, he’s been even more insufferable. Thinks he’s so cool and important, always hanging around his Hunter buddies.”

Boyd grins. “Careful there Jackson, your jealousy is showing.”

“I am _not_ – ”

“Shush,” the girls tell him in unison, starting up a new conversation. Without really making the conscious decision to do so, he shifts his senses to Stiles and Cole again, listening in to their ongoing conversation.

_“What the hell do they think they’re doing? Don’t they know who he is?”_

_“Probably not, but I don’t think they’d care either way.”_

_“Ugh, he has probably brainwashed them or something. Look at him, being all buddy-buddy with them and eating our food.”_

_“You’re overreacting.”_

_“Shut up Cole, you know damn well why I hate that fucking Wolf.”_

Wow. He knew Stiles didn’t like him, but hate? Good to know where he stands with the guy, Jesus Christ.

_“Look, all I’m saying is that you might want to get to know him first before you form an opinion. I’m not saying you need to be friends with him, I wouldn’t either, but you know what your dad told us. And who knows, maybe you guys will actually like each other.”_

He hears Stiles scoff. _“Not a chance.”_

Not a chance. Derek completely agrees.

 


	17. Derek: The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not updating yesterday, life got in the way. Hope you guys enjoy the new chapter :)

Derek’s first night as Boyd’s roommate is nothing short of pure bliss. After weeks of sleeping on a bare mattress on the floor, he finally spent the night in an actual bed again. With an actual pillow and a blanket to bury himself into, all cuddly and warm. It’s the best night of sleep he’s had since he left home.

He and Boyd join the queue in front of the bathroom. Once again, people fall silent as they notice his presence. Infuriating as it may be, he decides to keep his head down and look as unthreatening as he can possibly manage. Erica and Lydia enter the hall together, Lydia walking over to join the line in front of the women’s room, while Erica stops by to kiss Boyd a brief hello.

Boyd mumbles a ‘morning baby’. Derek hides his smile, finding it cute. Not that he’ll admit that to either of their faces. He likes his balls where they are, thank you very much.

Erica pushes her hair behind her ear with a shy smile. She catches him watching and smiles at him as well. “Hey Derek.”

He returns her smile, a warm feeling pooling in his chest at someone giving him a simple greeting. “Good morning, Erica.”

When it’s his turn in the bathroom, he wishes he could take a longer shower and take the time to really appreciate it, but no one here gets that luxury. Derek can adapt. When he steps out of the room, he almost walks right into Stiles. As usual, the guy scowls as soon as their eyes meet.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles, pushing past him without another word, knocking his shoulder into Derek’s with surprising force. Derek blinks, stunned for a moment, snapping back to reality when the bathroom door bangs shut. He sets his jaw, huffing out an angry breath. The kid seriously makes his claws want to pop out. Which come to think of it, might be exactly what the guy is aiming for. Derek wouldn’t put it past him to be that petty. He scoffs. His control is impeccable. The kid will have to try a lot harder if he wants him to snap.

“Derek!” Jackson calls for him from the back of the room. “You coming or what?”

He sighs, sending him a quick smile. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

 

* * *

 

 

He spends his day with the Cooks. He has a feeling they don’t like leaving him out of their sight yet. It’s okay though, he’s enjoying himself with Boyd and Erica, making bread. The kneading of the dough is almost therapeutic. Mrs Boyd doesn’t treat him any differently than the others. She’d handed him an apron, had given him a no-nonsense look and said that as long as he’s willing to get his hands dirty and do the goddamn job, she couldn’t care less about who or what he is.

During lunch he catches Holly watching him again, listening to him talk. He quickly sticks his  tongue out at her and she lets out a surprised giggle, then promptly slaps her hands to her mouth as if to take the sound back, eyes wide as saucers. Derek bites his lip to hide his grin and returns to his conversation.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek’s first day as a part of HR is almost officially over and he can honestly say that it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sure, people still stop whatever they’re doing as soon as he enters a room, but after that they resume their activities like nothing happened. Maybe Boyd was right when he claimed that they just need some time to get used to him. As long as Derek doesn’t give them any reason to hate him – or hate him _more_ , in some cases –  everything will be fine.

He needs to keep his eyes on his goal. Get these people to trust him, appear unthreatening and wait patiently until his family shows up. They will.

When they have finished cooking dinner, he and the Cooks are done for the day. He, Erica and Boyd each take a plate of food and take it to an empty table, making sure there’s enough room left for Lydia and Jackson for when they show up. Conversation flows freely and it’s good. He feels comfortable around these kids. Well, young adults is probably a better term. They don’t differ that much in age.

Erica and Boyd leave for some alone time together. Jackson still has work duties and Lydia declares she needs some well-earned time for herself. It leaves Derek on his own, unsure what he should do. He has a feeling Erica and Boyd are in his bedroom, so he decides not to go there just in case.

He finds himself wandering the corridors, mapping the place, looking for a possible way out. It’s being complicated by the footsteps that have been following him around since he left the kitchen. The person either doesn’t know the extent of his Wolf’s abilities, or simply doesn’t care. He’s not sure if that makes the person brave or stupid.

He rounds a corner and waits, turning to face the way he came. He shakes his head when he hears the footsteps speed up, probably afraid to lose sight of him. He doesn’t have to wait much longer for the person to catch up and round the corner. It’s Bono, one of the men who used to guard him. Derek isn’t surprised the man doesn’t trust him. He even told John to his face that letting Derek walk around freely was a terrible idea. Idiot.

“Hi,” Derek smiles at him, showing teeth, amused at the spike of anxiety in the man’s scent. “Bono, was it?”

The man doesn’t say anything, just narrows his eyes at him and crosses his arms. It’s probably supposed to look menacing. It’s not.

Derek scratches the scruff on his jaw. “I’m trying to find my way to the Farmers, but I’m pretty sure I got lost. Mind pointing me in the right direction?”

All he gets in response is a scowl, then the guy leaves without having said a word. Derek huffs a laugh and continues down the hall. Rounding the next corner, he walks right into another person.

He lets out an ‘oof’, reflexively holding on to the other person’s arm to steady them both, but the hand is slapped away a moment later.

“Get your paws off me.”

Oh. Of course it’s him. Because apparently he’s just that damn lucky.

Derek scowls as Stiles glares at him. “Fancy meeting you here. Didn’t expect to find you out here alone.”

“What do you want?” he huffs, refusing to play along with the boy’s game.

“Funny you ask.” Stiles casually crosses his arms over his chest. Derek can tell the guy is pissed, though. He’s a Wolf, for God’s sake. Who the hell does the guy think he’s kidding here? He raises an eyebrow in a silent question to make Stiles continue.

“I just wanted to tell you that you should stay away from Holly.”

Derek blinks. “Come again?”

“You heard me, Hale. Stay the hell away from her.”

Like he spent so much time with her in the first place? He hasn’t spoken a word with her, this guy is so fucking confusing. And _infuriating_. Has he mentioned that? Because he feels like he should mention that.

“Are you threatening me again?”

“No, not really,” Stiles hums. “Not yet, anyway. This is just a warning.”

“Oh, a _warning_ ,” Derek parrots, rolling his eyes. Who does this guy think he is? Stiles scowls again, a fire in his eyes that’s just plain unnerving to Derek.

“It’s bad enough that you brainwashed Lydia and the others, but you need to keep your paws off the children. I mean it.”

“Or what?”

Stiles balls his fists, the smell of his anger growing more potent and Derek should probably be worried by that, but he has seriously had it with this kid. There is literally _no_ reason for him to despise Derek this much and until the guy explains it to him, he can go fuck himself.

“Oh, I’ll show you what – ” Stiles starts, looking like he’s ready to start throwing punches (Derek would _love_ to see him try), but is interrupted when someone skids into the corridor. One inhale of his scent tells Derek that it’s the other Wolf.

“There you are!” Scott exclaims, looking nervously between Stiles and Derek. “Dude, what the hell is going on here?”

Stiles huffs, but doesn’t respond, eyes firmly locked with Derek’s. Scott steps closer to them and lays a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing lightly. It’s casual and almost seems natural, as if they’ve done it many times before, and it actually serves to calm Stiles down somewhat. Which is when Derek realizes that they _do_ share casual touches on the regular. Even their scents are intermingled, proving they spent a lot of time around each other.

Remember when he said Stiles would have to try harder to get him to snap? This might be it. He’s done. Because this is just – He is so _fucking_ –

“You accept Scott, but not me?” he exclaims in outrage, because what the ever-loving fuck? “You little _hypocrite!_ ”

Honestly, he doesn’t even understand why he _cares._ Why does it bother him so much that one human seems to dislike him this much? It only serves to anger him further.

“You’re calling _me_ a hypocrite? You son of a – ”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence,” he growls, feeling his eyes start to burn their beta gold. His claws are itching to come out and –

“ _BOYS!”_ The voice comes from the end of the hallway, but it’s loud and demanding enough to make them both stop and turn. Derek winces when he realizes that it’s John. “Council Office, _now_.”

“Dad – ”

“Right fucking _now_ , Stiles,” the man hisses. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Stiles really looks like he wants to protest again, but apparently he’s smart enough not to go against his father. He snaps his jaw shut and huffs angrily, but stomps after his father a moment later. Scott drags a hand across his face, sighing heavily. He nods his head in the direction the other two just left in.

“You should go. Before John realizes you’re not behind him.”

He swallows, his mouth suddenly entirely too dry. “What’s going to happen now?”

Scott shudders. “You’re going to get a taste of John’s angry side.”

Well _crap_.

 

* * *

 

 

Once they have reached the Council Office, John tersely asks the few Representatives who are in the room to leave them alone for a few minutes. The people slowly vacate the room while he and Stiles just stand there, both of them looking anywhere but at John or each other.

The man in question faces them when it’s just the three of them in the room, the door firmly shut. His face – calm and collected before – is thunderous.

“ _Sit_ ,” he tells them, leaving no room for argument. Neither he nor Stiles hesitates for even a second to obey the order. “Now which one of you would like to explain to me what the _hell_ I just witnessed? Because both of you have rules to follow around here and I’m damn sure you both broke them.”

A moment of silence, then they both look at each other and as if on cue start blurting out accusations.

“He needs to stay the fuck away from the kids – ”

“He threatened me _again_ – ”

“ _BOYS!_ ” John slams his fist on the table, effectively shutting both of the boys up. “One at a time. Please.”

“Look,” Stiles begins before Derek can even open his mouth, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to let him around the kids. If he loses control around one of them it won’t only be dangerous for the kids, but also for HR’s entire order. He’s a liability.”

“One,” Derek butts in angrily, “I would never hurt a child. And two, I don’t lose control. My Wolf doesn’t have that kind of power over me.”

Stiles laughs condescendingly. “Oh really? So you didn’t lose control back there? Was the golden glow of your eyes just a trick of the light?”

“Cut it out, both of you!” John angles a furious glare at both of them, levelling a hand near his temple. “I’ve had it up to here with the antagonistic behaviour between you two.” He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Stiles has a point about you losing control,”

Stiles sends him a smug smile. Derek glares.

“ – _but_ I have to be fair and admit Derek hasn’t done anything to even suggest that he’s out to harm us.”

It’s Derek’s turn to look smug. Until Stiles opens his mouth again.

“He’s just biding his time.”

“Or _maybe_ he just wants to be left the hell alone,” he bites out.

John regards his son with a speculative look and he must find something in his face, because the anger in his expression softens just a bit. “Stiles, I know what you’re doing and God knows I know why, but you’re a smart kid. You’ve got to be able to see this is unfair.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t thinking the exact same thing,” Stiles hisses.

“Oh, I’ve had those thoughts alright. But I’m not the one treating him like he’s a bomb ready to go off at any moment. The least you can do is explain things to him.”

“Explain what, exactly?” Derek wonders aloud. He doesn’t really know how it happened, but the conversation is completely lost on him.

John looks at his son. “Stiles?”

The boy remains silent, and Derek is assaulted by the emotions emanating from him. He can clearly smell Stiles’ anger building, ready to explode again. He’s not surprised when it does, even though he has a feeling Stiles is still holding himself back.

“Screw this,” the boy stands up with a jerk, his chair tipping backwards with the force of it, clattering to the ground with a bang. “I’m out of here.”

“Stiles!” John calls after him, clearly pissed. Stiles ignores him though and storms out of the room without another word. John drags a hand down his face and takes a couple of deep breaths. Derek can tell he’s still angry, but trying very hard to rein it back in. He clears his throat.

“Sir?”

The man meets his eyes, looking grim. “Derek, I have a demanding job to do here. I don’t have time for a feud between you and my son.”

He can’t help but bristle at the accusation. “Sir, with all due respect, but it’s Stiles who keeps confronting me. I don’t even know why he hates me to begin with! It’s hardly my fault that he drives my Wolf to snap.”

“Look, I get that my son is a handful, alright? But he has his reasons. It doesn’t matter right now. What does matter to me is your ability to keep your Wolf in check. You’re lucky me and Scott were the only ones who saw you back there. If it would have been someone else all hell could have broken loose. Fear is a dangerous thing around here Derek. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He gulps. He has an inkling. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Good,” John nods. “You can go now. Try not to spend too much time with my son.”

He barely manages to swallow back his scoff. “That won’t be a problem.” Then he stands up and leaves the room. So much for his good day.

 


	18. Derek: The Celebration

The second weekend of September starts off in a very ... peculiar way. On Friday, the air seems to be buzzing with excitement, though no one acknowledges it and so Derek is left without an explanation for the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Everyone keeps busy. Like, notably busy. And once again, Derek is left on the sidelines, utterly confused.

On Saturday, people seem to be working even harder to get everything done, many people volunteering to help the Farmers that day. The excitement is still heavy in the air, and Derek can almost taste it, it’s that potent. He’s working with Boyd and Erica in the kitchen again and they too have been working their asses off today. When dinner is ready about two hours before the usual time, Derek finally cracks and gives in to his curiosity.

“Okay, what’s going on?” he asks, arms unconsciously crossing on his chest.

Boyd frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Dinner is early. Everyone is excited. I don’t get it.”

And Derek is done with feeling this confused all the damn time, but he decides not to mention that. It’s not their fault. Mostly.

Boyd still looks puzzled, but after a moment Erica groans and lays a hand on Derek’s arm, smiling apologetically. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”

“Tell me what?”

“Why today is special,” Erica says, slowly shaking her head to herself. “I figured John would have told you, but I guess he didn’t.”

Before Derek can demand from her that she clarifies what she’s talking about, Boyd jumps in and finally puts him out of his misery. “Today is Bunker Day. Every second Saturday of September we all get together in the living room and get cosy while Finstock tells his story and the history of HR. Many of us see tonight as the best night of the year.” He shrugs. “It’s one of the few holidays we actually get to celebrate.”

That is ... not what Derek was expecting. He’s intrigued, though. His inner history buff is rubbing its hands in anticipation, ready to jump at this chance to learn more about the humans. He’s read so many things about the start of Project 6, but never has he been able to get his information first-hand. Until now.

“It sounds great,” he says sincerely.

Boyd nods. “It really is. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Derek smiles and for the first time that weekend, he shares their excitement.

 

* * *

 

 

After everyone is done with dinner, Derek follows Boyd, Erica, Lydia and Jackson to the living room. His first thought when he enters is that ‘living room’ is not a very accurate label, because the room he’s currently standing in is huge, big enough to fit the entirety of the HR society comfortably. There are a few couches, occupied by the few elderly people present at HR and some adults. The rest of the floor though, is completely covered in mattresses, pillows and blankets. _Cosy_ doesn’t even begin to cover it. If these people had been Wolves, Derek would have said they’d been nesting, creating an honest to God den and preparing to form the biggest puppy-pile he’s ever seen.

They’re not Wolves though, so Derek can’t be blamed for the look of utter surprise on his face. Jackson catches it and pats his shoulder with a chuckle, urging him to keep moving further into the room.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s pick a seat before all the good spots are gone.”

Derek follows in silence, still too shocked to say anything, and just lets Jackson lead him to a nice place to sit. It’s seriously comfy and Derek can’t begin to explain how much he’s missed a place like this. The electric lights are turned off, instead the light in the room is coming from a wide variety of lanterns spread across the room, casting shadows on the wall and creating a mysterious, yet relaxing atmosphere.

A little while later, John enters the room with Finstock and the other Representatives: Deaton for the Doctors, Mrs Boyd for the Cooks, Mrs Martin for the Stylists, Mr Whitmore for the Fixers, a woman Derek doesn’t know yet is there to represent the Cleaners, and finally Mrs Morrell for the Teachers.

Everybody starts clapping and Derek joins them because it’d be weird if he didn’t. The Representatives stop in the centre of the room and John raises his hand, signalling for them to be quiet. The other Representatives take a seat, finding their people or family, only Finstock staying behind.

“Welcome everyone,” John starts, addressing the room with an easy smile. The man looks completely different from the last time Derek saw him, much more at ease now than he was then. It’s kind of a relief. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the beginning of our society. We celebrate our history. But most of all we celebrate being a family, one that takes care of each other and helps each other survive.”

“To those of you who are celebrating with us for the first time, welcome to the family. To everyone else, I’m glad you’re all still here and contributing to the life we have here. I’m proud of you. And you all have every right to be proud of yourselves.”

There’s a chorus of “hear, hear!” throughout the room.

“Okay, I think it’s about time I yield the floor to Finstock over here.” He pats the man’s shoulder. “Give him some love, everybody.”

They start clapping again, whooping enthusiastically, and someone even goes as far as hollering a loud ‘GO COACH!’ through the room. The man in question rolls his eyes, looking equal parts fond and exasperated. “Shut up, Greenberg.”

The room goes quiet as the man takes his position in the centre of the room, pointedly clearing his throat to signal that he’s about to start his story. The air is heavy with excitement and anticipation.

“Twenty-eight years ago, on the fourth of June 2176, _The Global Archive_ published the article that proclaimed Project 6 a success, marking the end of society as we knew it. As much as Project 6 doomed us all, it wasn’t the original cause of our downfall. For that, we need to go back to about two years before that.”

The man pauses, exchanging looks with a couple of people around the room, letting his words sink in. A few of the kids giggle when the man makes a funny face at them. He claps his hands together and continues his story with the bit of history Derek is already familiar with.

“Our story starts in the year 2174. We didn’t realize it at the time, but near the end of that year, a virus was born that would soon spread across the globe like wildfire. Once we figured out what was happening, it was already way too late.

“It started with a cough, sometimes with some sneezing. The symptoms were much like a common cold, which is why we didn’t realize how much trouble we were in from the get go. During this first stage, the virus already had a chance to spread an excessive amount, and humankind remained painfully oblivious.

“After a couple of weeks, the infected would reach stage two. Only the cough would remain, but now new symptoms would arise, like nosebleeds and sore muscles: annoying and a bit odd, but not yet something we’d call the emergency number for.

“No, that only happened during stage three. The infected started coughing up blood, had dizzy spells, developed atrophy. Some of them had unexplainable seizures. They’d be admitted to a hospital, where doctors would run tests on them, all without a conclusive diagnosis. Sometimes they’d get treated for a disease they didn’t even have, but people were getting desperate.

“The infected usually didn’t last a week in the hospital before entering stage four. They’d develop a fever, their skin literally burning, blood boiling and all of it accompanied by a tremendous amount of pain.” He looks around at the kids and smiles ruefully.

“I’ll spare you all the gruesome details, but I will tell you this. Stage four always ended the same.”

He pauses, and even Derek is holding his breath, even though he already knows the answer.

“Death. Every single one of them died. It didn’t take long for the world to figure out that it wasn’t a local thing either. All over the globe, there were reports of the same unexplainable diseases and deaths. People panicked, our best scientists got called together to figure out what the hell was happening. Lucky for me, I was smart enough to get my ass to the bunker long before the rest of the world caught on.”

Finstock looks smug, and Derek catches John shaking his head with an amused huff. “See, for centuries, people have made fun of people like me. They’d call us ‘doomsday preppers’, called us paranoid, _insane_ even.” He lets out a triumphant laugh. “Well I bet they wish they would have listened to us now!

“The world erupted into chaos and the scientists worked their asses off to find a cure, anything to stop the epidemic. And all the while, I was preparing this baby to become a home.” He spreads his arms to indicate the bunker. I needed to stock up on supplies, get everything I needed to survive in here for as long as possible ... and then they doomed us all by launching Project 6.”

Derek can sense the overpowering resentment coming from the people around him. The older humans, the ones he assumes were out there when Project 6 was launched, are making faces similar to Finstock’s, clearly agreeing, looking like they remember the exact moment it happened. They probably do. He feels a bit nauseous all of a sudden.

“Now if only they would have given us a choice, things probably would have been fine.” Finstock sighs, shrugging. “But they didn’t. They had the goddamn nerve to make their so-called ‘cure’ mandatory! They threw away our humanity with a single procedure, acting like they were some kind of heroes! Sure, most of us were scared, hell, _I_ was scared, but I sure as hell wasn’t gonna roll over and let them take my humanity!”

The people cheer in agreement. Finstock smiles at them and claps his hands together decisively. “Now, luckily, I wasn’t the only one with an actual brain. On one of my supply runs, I ran into this crazy married couple: Claudia and John Stilinski.”Stiles whoops, urning an eyeroll from Coach.

“Granted, I don’t agree with every decision they ever made –” He looks at Stiles, who surreptitiously gives him the finger, making the man huff, “ – but we soon became close friends. After making sure neither of us was infected, I showed them the Bunker and they told me about how they had to flee their hometown, because the government was trying to take their humanity away from them like they had any fricking right to.”

He gets this look on his face, kind of wistful, and there’s a loaded silence like everyone knows what’s coming now. He shares a look with John, who nods with a small, sad smile.

“Now John and I, we were fine living in the Bunker with the three of us. If we stumbled upon more uninfected people, fine, they were welcome enough, but other than that we didn’t have any plans to start a community. Claudia, however, she was unfortunately as stubborn as she was compassionate. She convinced us to go back out there, to find more people like us, to save them from becoming the animals the government apparently wanted us to be.

“And well, you may not know this if you never got the chance to meet her, but let me tell you, you don’t say no to Claudia Stilinski. You should be thankful, because she’s the reason you’re all here now, living in an honest to god community of actual humans.

“She convinced us to go back out there, to rescue other refugees, to make sure that not our entire magnificent race would die out at our own damn hands! While the rest of America submitted to Wolf-hood, _we_ remained unconquered! And we will do so until our dying moments!”

He raises his glass. “To Claudia! To us, the Human Resistance!” Drinks are passes around and everybody’s toasting, cheering, clapping, and Derek _can’t breathe._

His head is spinning. He can’t help but to sympathize with these people, even though he’s never thought about Project 6 like this. It’s like his entire worldview has changed in the span of Finstock’s speech. His senses are on overload as he feels the array of emotions in the room. The anger, the sadness, the worry, the longing, the helplessness.

He’s shocked when his eyes start watering and he stands up slowly, leaving the room without attracting too much attention. His hands are shaking and he squeezes them into fists to try to stop it. With a pang, he realizes that he feels guilty. And logically he knows that it’s not his fault, but he still feels responsible. How has he never looked at it this way?

His feet walk him to the stairwell and he sits down at the bottom of the stairs with a sigh. He always saw Project 6 as something positive, and the change to the shifter society as something natural. Something everyone was happy about. His grandmother was one of the scientists involved with the project and so to him, it’s always been a kind of family legacy. He’s starting to realize that that means next to nothing here. Certainly nothing good.

His breaths come in short bursts, his chest aching and he has a hard time keeping his Wolf calm. What the hell was he thinking when he decided to stay here voluntarily, biding his time? He should have been trying harder to find his way out of here, should have been making actual plans to get back to his family. Knowing them, there’s probably already a search party out there, desperately looking for clues. As long as the pack bond tells them that he’s still alive, he knows they won’t give up on finding him.

And yet.

Yet, the thought of shifters finding out about HR, about the _humans_ here, makes him feel sick. Especially after having heard Finstock’s story. Because he’s right, isn’t he? These people deserve to make their own choices. And if the outside world finds out about them, Derek has no doubt that they’ll make sure the humans get turned into Wolves, like they were supposed to years ago. As much as he wants to get back to his family, let them know he’s alright, he’s just not sure he can let that happen.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to live with himself.

He sits there quietly on the stairs, just breathing and overthinking everything, until the little girl who’s been curious about him – Holly, he remembers – surprises him by finding him there. She stands across from him, looking in his eyes for an unnervingly long moment, then takes the few steps to reach him and quietly sits down next to him. 

After another long moment, she asks: “Are you sad?”

He takes a deep breath before he answers. “A little ... I got a bit overwhelmed for a minute there. I’ll be okay, though.”

She gives a small nod, pats his hand and then stands up and leaves again without another word.

 


	19. Derek: The Revelation

As it turns out, Holly wasn’t the only one who saw him leave and decided to come after him. Barely five minutes have passed before Derek gets another surprise visit at the stairs. He looks up when the door opens again and his mouth falls open when his eyes catch sight of the man in front of him. He’s about the last person Derek was expecting to check up on him. Unless he’s not and Derek will find himself in an awful lot of trouble in mere seconds.

“Mr Finstock,” he moves to stand up, but the man cuts him off with a movement of his hand, face souring.

“Ugh, please drop the ‘Mr’. Just call me Finstock. Or Coach. I really don’t care as long as you never call me Mr again.”

He gulps. “Sure.”

The man holds the door open and motions his head in the direction of the living room. “What are you waiting for? Get your ass back in there.”

“Uh ... are you sure people still want me in there?” he asks carefully, wringing the back of his neck with a clammy hand. “I mean, do _you_? Because I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I understand if you hate me –”

“Oh for the love of God, Hale, get over yourself already,” Finstock interrupts him, leaving him speechless and confused as hell. That seems to be a recurring theme lately. “If you’re quite done with your pity-party, go inside and enjoy the rest of the night with your friends.”

Derek stands up, then halts, because _friends_. Can he really call them that? Boyd and the others have been friendly enough with him, but has he earned the right to call them friends? Finstock clears his throat and motions for Derek to hurry up. He does, and the man follows him back inside. Before Derek can walk off to return to the others, Finstock calls after him.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I don’t hate you, I just hate what you are. It’s not your fault your family happened to be part of humanities downfall.”

He nods, unable to say anything else to that. He appreciates the words, though. Finstock copies the movement and returns to his own people, Derek doing the same soon after. Some of the humans track him with their eyes, not even attempting to be subtle about it, but most of them don’t even seem to notice him, simply continuing whatever it is they’re doing. Derek is surprised when he returns to Boyd and the others and catches a whiff of concern mixed into their scents.

“Is something wrong?” he asks hesitantly, taking a seat next to Boyd.

“I think we should be asking you, man,” Jackson says. “You’re the one who pretty much high-tailed it out of here. What happened?”

He looks down at his hands, fiddling with a loose thread on his jeans. “Oh, uh ... that. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Erica looks at him closely, concern once again spiking in her scent. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “Yeah, I just got a little overwhelmed.”

“Okay,” she says, quickly putting her smaller hand over his and squeezing. He has to stifle a surprised gasp, taken aback by the sudden easy affection. Lydia, ever observant, sends him a knowing smile. Unexpected as their concern is to him, it feels ... nice. Makes him feel like he matters, if only a little. He’s missed that.

“Well in that case,” Erica continues, “you should take these.” She hands him a chocolate bar, smiling encouragingly. “We saved you one.”

He smiles, pleased, yet a bit puzzled. “Oh, thanks.” He didn’t think the humans would have stuff like this, only the essentials. That’s all he has seen so far. He doesn’t really want to think about how they would even get their hands on things like candy.

He must be projecting his confusion on his face, because Boyd grins and answers his unspoken question. “The Hunters bring them home from the raids sometimes, if they get the chance. We all keep them in the storage room and save them for special occasions like tonight.”

He nods in acknowledgement, but doesn’t comment on it, not sure what to say. Besides, he doesn’t want to take the risk of unintentionally offending anyone. They don’t seem to mind his silence either, simply starting up a new conversation.

The rest of the night is ... it’s amazing. Honestly, Derek can’t help but make a comparison to full moon nights back at home. The entire pack would get together for a midnight run, after which they’d all share a massive amount of food, sitting around a fire and basking in each other’s presence. In the feeling of _pack_.

The humans may not have any shifter DNA, but this sure makes it look like they do. They huddle close, lounging on the mattresses lining the floor, they sing songs – one guy even brings out a guitar from somewhere to provide a melody – there are games for the kids and whoever else wants to partake in them. There’s even a little girl skipping between the different groups of people in the room, wielding a bubble blower and teasingly blowing them throughout the room. Something so simple, and yet people seem to be mesmerized by it. The room itself is decorated with strings of fairy lights, casting brilliant glimmers across the walls.

Eventually, Derek and the others end up lying down, entertaining themselves with keeping a couple of balloons off the ground while the adults drink a beer or other. He notices the easy touching between many of the humans, and is once again reminded by the similarity to pack. It settles his Wolf.

A-22, the nightly alarm, goes off and people get ready to go to sleep, walking back to their designated matrasses and wishing each other goodnight.

He hears the light pitter-patter of feet rushing his way, a heartbeat appearing at his shoulder, followed by a light tap on his shoulder. He fights back a smile, turning around slowly.

“Hi.”

Holly stands before him, hands behind her back and swaying back and forth between her heels and her toes. “Hi,” she echoes, looking up at him with a shy smile.

When she doesn’t say anything else, he turns fully toward her, kneeling on his mattress. “I forgot to say thank you, for coming to find me earlier.” He smiles at her. “That was really nice of you."

She shrugs. “You’re welcome.”

He catches her parents looking their way anxiously, so he figures it’s probably best if he sends her on her way. “Goodnight, Holly.”

She grins, almost making Derek coo at the sight of the little gap between her teeth. “Goodnight, Mr Wolf.”

He chuckles. “Call me Derek.”

“Okay.” She flashes him another shy smile. “Goodnight, Derek.”

He nods, watching her until she’s safely back with her parents. Jackson snorts beside him.

“You’re such a softie.”

“Don’t think he agrees with that,” Boyd huffs, nodding his chin at someone across the room. Derek looks in that direction and locks eyes with none other than Stiles. Because who else would it be?

Neither of them breaks eye-contact for the longest time, until Jackson nudges his arm gently to get his attention. He blinks and turns his head to face the boy.

“Dude, careful with the eyes.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were glowing.” Jackson frowns. “Didn’t you notice?”

Cursing inwardly, he shakes his head, smiling. “It happens sometimes, it’s nothing to worry about.”

He chances a look back at Stiles, trying not to wince when he catches his mutinous glare. He sighs and looks away, wondering how long it’ll take before his slip up comes back to bite him in the ass.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignoring his interactions with Stiles and most of the other Hunters, it gets easier over time, staying here with the humans. He’s getting used to their society, and they get used to him in turn. He usually helps out in the kitchen or, like Scott, lends Finstock a hand because he’s faster and stronger than most of the Farmers and has less trouble doing the heavy lifting. He has been on good terms with the man since their little ‘talk’ the other night. Not that they’re suddenly acting like they’re friends or anything, but he does believe that Finstock meant what he said that night.

Other people acknowledge him now as well, and little by little they begin to treat him like an actual person instead of a monster. They greet him in the morning, or when they cross his path in the hallways or in the kitchen. Some of them have even started to call him by his name. He always tries to hide the pleased smile it brings to his lips, but he doesn’t think he succeeds all that well.

He’s a hard worker and is smart enough not to give anyone anything to complain about. He still worries about his family, but he pushes those thoughts away to the back of his mind as much as possible. It probably makes him a bad person, but it’s just ... he’s kind of happy here.

If he is being completely honest with himself, the thought of having to stay here doesn’t really scare him that much. It’s almost like he fits in here better than he does in his own world. For the first time in his life, he feels like he could belong somewhere. Which is kind of ironic, since technically these aren’t even his own people, and many of them still exude hostility toward him. Yet he feels more connected with them than he ever has with his fellow shifters.

He _gets_ these people. And ignoring the whole Wolf thing, he can actually be himself here. He hasn’t been able to just be Derek for so long that it’s a very nice change of pace. There’s no pressure on him here, no mask he has to put on to fit in. He’s just Derek. Not the son of the prestigious Talia Hale, Guardian of America.

He has friends. Before, he just had Isaac and his family, and of course he misses them – another thing he chooses to ignore for now – but people accept him and like him for who he is here, without trying to make him fit into a mould. It’s an incredible feeling.

But the most striking revelation yet is that he can honestly picture himself staying here. He can imagine himself living in this community for the rest of his life and be happy. It’s as much frightening as it is exhilarating. The only thing that’s keeping him from saying ‘fuck it’ and start a life here, is knowing that his family is still out there waiting for a sign from him.

As much as he would enjoy to continue his stay here, he knows that he can’t. Either he goes back to his family, or his family will find him here. It might take them a while, but he knows they will. He’s painfully aware that neither one of those scenarios are a desired option, but he particularly dislikes the latter.

His family can’t find out about these people. He just can’t let it happen.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a scent that’s been itching at Derek’s nose all day, and it’s getting on his nerves. It’s not unpleasant, per se, just very present. Even vaguely familiar, though he can’t put his finger on how.

When he’s done in the kitchen for the day, he can’t stand it any longer and finally allows himself to investigate. He tracks the scent all the way to the gunroom, which contains more random hand-made weapons than actual guns. John only showed it to him briefly when he first got the tour around the bunker, as if afraid he’d break into the weapons’ storage and attack them. As if he has any idea how to use any of them. He has inbuilt weapons, he doesn’t need any of theirs.

At least not where he comes from.

He gets another whiff of the scent he’s been tracking, spicier this time, accompanied by a joyful laugh. It’s nice.

Or at least that’s what he thinks until he enters the room and finds Stiles, sparring with Scott.

The Wolf notices him first, of course he does, head snapping up and swiftly turning around, shielding Stiles from view. Or maybe shielding Derek from Stiles’ view, judging by the pained look Scott sends his way.

He should have just ignored his damn nose.

“Scott, seriously?” Stiles mutters, trying to shove him aside.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to be in the same room,” he says, sending Derek another meaningful look. It involves a lot of eyebrow. It’s kind of ridiculous.

Derek can practically _hear_ Stiles’ eyeroll. “Come on, we can be civil.”

He can’t help it, his eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. “Can we?”

Stiles glares. “Not helping.”

He’s going to strangle this guy and his unidentifiable signals. Now he certainly wants to play nice? What happened to being enemies?

“What.”

“You forgot a question mark.” Stiles smirks.

Derek glares.

Scott clears his throat. “Seriously Derek, I think it would be better if you left.”

“ _I think_ we should talk,” Stiles pipes up, sighing when Scott sends him a disappointed frown. He holds up his hands. “Just talk, I promise.”

They seem to have a silent conversation, until Scott relents and walks towards the exit, muttering all the way about what a bad idea this is. Derek can’t say he disagrees.

Stiles spreads his arms in a ta-da gesture, smirking at him. “And so we meet again.”

God, Derek hopes he never meets Peter. They’d be insufferable together.

He takes a step forward, crossing his arms. “I see you’re still a hypocrite.”

“I see you’re still bitter about me liking Scott’s company.”

“I’m not bitter,” Derek growls, “I just don’t _get it_.”

“Ahw,” Stiles mocks, making his claws itch to come out. “Want me to break it down for you, Big Bad?”

He just huffs, waiting him out. Stiles grins, walking closer while he talks.

“It’s very simple. Scott knows what it’s like to be human. He resisted, you know? Managed to escape your people for years until they found him and his mom. He never wanted this. The only reason he’s a Wolf is because it would give his mom the opportunity to run and find us. He’s a victim, like us.” He pokes at Derek’s chest. “You aren’t.”

Derek grits his teeth, slapping the offending digit away. “I may not be a ‘victim’, but it’s not like I chose this either. It’s not my fault I was born into this.”

Anger flashes in the boy’s eyes, and the next thing Derek knows he’s shoved against the wall, Stiles centimetres from his face.

“Really? And what did you ever do to help us out, huh? Did you ever try to change things out there? Try to stop them from coming after us? From changing us against our will?”

“I didn’t _know_ ,” he snaps, meeting the boy’s scowl with one of his own.

“But you could have,” Stiles bites back, not backing down. He scoffs when Derek doesn’t answer. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Derek growls, unable to find fault in the boy’s logic even though he has no idea how he could have found out earlier. Stiles keeps looking at him, eyes piercing into his own.

“ _Stop that.”_

“What?”

“Stop flashing your eyes at me! You pretend to be one of us but you keep letting your Wolf out. How long until you actually lash out?”

Shit. That’s the second time he didn’t notice it happening. And again because of Stiles. “Fuck you. And fuck your prejudice. I will never hurt your people.”

Stiles inclines his head for a brief moment. “Maybe not. But can you guarantee the same thing about your family? Because we both know it’s only a matter of time before they find you here.”

Derek stays silent once more, glaring at the boy for having a point, for forcing him to see his family in such a negative light. Stiles shakes his head, shoving away from him.

“We should never have brought you here.”

He leaves the room without a backwards glance, leaving Derek frozen against the wall, trying to get his bearings.

Checking his eyes to make sure they’ve stopped glowing, he finally realizes the state of his Wolf. After an encounter like this, he should feel cornered, angry. Stiles threw him against a wall, for God’s sake.

But he didn’t fight it, did he? All the feedback he gets from his Wolf is that it’s curious to see the boy’s next move, all pliant and submissive. Like it _enjoyed_ Stiles’ display of dominance, and –

Oh.

Oh _no._

 


	20. Derek: Trust

During breakfast one morning, Stiles walks up to their table. Derek hasn’t seen the boy much since their latest fight and Derek may have been avoiding him because of his … revelation. While he hasn’t forgotten about the boy completely, he has been enjoying his time here more without butting heads with him on the regular.

“What the hell do you want, Stilinski?” Jackson sneers, looking up at the boy with disdain.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Good morning to you too, Jackson.”

“Just spit it out, Stiles,” Lydia sighs, not even looking up from her breakfast.

Derek can hear the boy grind his teeth together and it fills him with an odd sense of satisfaction.

“Fine,” he huffs. “I’m here to fetch your lapdog.”

“ _What_ did you just call him?” Erica snaps, standing up from her seat and glaring fiercely, her shoulders tight with anger. Boyd lays a calming hand on her arm, but does join her in glaring in Stiles’ direction. Derek is touched.

Stiles ignores them all and looks right at him. “My dad wants to speak to you.” With that he turns around and stalks out of the kitchen, undoubtedly expecting him to follow.

He shoves the last of his food in his mouth and stands up with a sigh. Jackson shoots a hand out, catching his wrist.

“What are you doing? You don’t have to listen to him.”

“I know that,” he shrugs, “but I can’t exactly ignore John.” Jackson makes a face, but nods and finally lets him go. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.” He smiles before walking out of the room.

“Took you long enough,” Stiles grumbles when he rounds the corner.

Derek ignores him and stalks past him without sparing him a glance. He can find John’s office without Stiles’ help.

“Hey!” the boy yells indignantly. “I was talking to you.”

He scoffs. “No, you weren’t. You were projecting your dislike of shifters on me. Not that I know why, because no one will _tell_ me.”

Stiles’ heartbeat kicks up a notch, and his scent spikes with anger for a moment. “Because it’s none of your goddamn business.”

He has to clench his hands into fists to keep from popping his claws. Not his business his ass. The teen is making it his business with every derogatory comment he spits his way. He’s so fucking infuriating. Derek knows calling him out on it will only end in them fighting again, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. He can be the bigger person.

They finally reach the Council Office. Derek is almost relieved to enter it.

His eyes land on John first, but he smells another Wolf and scans the room, finds Scott in a seat at the large conference table. Does John want to speak with him, too? He picks up surprise from Stiles as well, though only in smell. His face is a blank mask.

“Okay, I got him here. now what’s this about?” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, looking impatiently at his father.

The man raises an eyebrow, apparently not impressed with his son’s attitude. “I don’t remember asking you to be here.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow, sparking with defiance. “I’m staying.”

They seem to have another of their silent conversations, spoken only through their eyes, and finally John concedes. Derek doesn’t get it. The man could send Stiles away with a simple look if he wanted to, so why doesn’t he?

“Take a seat boys,” John gestures at the table, sitting down himself before addressing him and Scott. “The monthly raid is coming up. Scott had an impressive haul last month, but Melissa has expressed her concern about him going out there alone.” The man steeples his fingers together. “I’m inclined to agree with her. If anything happens to you out there, we have no way of knowing about it. So, this month, I want Derek to go too. It will be more efficient to sent you out together, and hopefully less dangerous.” John looks at him.

He opens his mouth to react, but is momentarily side-tracked when he inhales and gets a whiff of Stiles’ scent, full of rage, disbelief and suspicion. _Shit_. He realizes the boy is going to explode a second before he actually does it.

Much like last time, Stiles roughly pushes himself away from the table, his chair clattering to the ground. His voice is clipped when he asks: “Is this a joke?”

“Stiles –”

“No! Have you lost your damn mind? You can’t be serious right now!”

“It’s our safest option.”

“Safe?” Stiles scoffs. Derek shifts uneasily when the boy points an accusing finger at him. “I guarantee you that there will be people out there, looking for him. Anyone they encounter will recognize him. I know you know that. And there’s no way the Council actually agreed to this.”

“He does have a point,” Derek interjects, because he has to admit it is a bit suspicious. Scott he can understand, but sending him out there? That’s a huge liability. Maybe John really is testing him.

Scott, who has remained quiet until now, puts up a hand and waves it to get their attention. “Can I say something?”

John nods. “Go ahead.”

“The last time I went out, there wasn’t any news of Derek missing. There were no missing person’s reports or anything, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if there were. And he’d been gone for a while by then, right? So, if authorities were looking for him publicly I would have heard something about it ... but I haven’t. So maybe no one is even looking?”

He freezes. That can’t be true, right? His breath hitches, hands shaking ever so slightly. What if his family just decided to let him do his own thing? Would they even care if he didn’t come back, knowing he doesn’t really want to be there anyway?

He shakes his head. No. they have to be looking for him. There’s no way they haven’t realized they can’t reach him anymore by now.

“Derek?”

He looks up, blinks, meets John’s eyes. The man looks like he’s waiting for something, and he flushes when he realizes he was probably asked a question, but missed it.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked what you think is going on out there. Will people recognize you?”

He’s not as big on the whole media thing as the rest of his family, so maybe not, but it is likely. He is still royalty, everyone knows about him. But if Scott is right and there hasn’t been a public declaration that he’s missing yet, people might not think much of seeing him, perhaps not even notice him at first glance.

Still, he recognizes this for the opportunity that it is, because he could go outside again, smell fresh air, maybe even _shift_. He doesn’t want to give up the humans’ location, not even their existence, but maybe he can just let his family know that he’s alright. Give them a sign of life, at least. Tell them not to worry.

“I’d like to get the chance to go with Scott. It should be fine. I’ll make sure no one recognizes me. I can even stay in the car or something, if that will help.”

“And give you free reign of our only vehicle and a chance to ditch Scott?” Stiles scoffs. “Not suspicious at all.”

The words make his hackles rise. “Would you cut it out? Stop acting like you know what I’m thinking. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know you’re a shifter and a Hale. That’s all I need to know.”

“That’s what I am. Not _who_ I am.”

Once again he finds himself in an angry staredown with the boy, unable to look away. He remembers to keep his eyes in check this time, although part of him wants to flash them anyway out of spite.

John pointedly clears his throat. “If you boys are quite done, I’d like to continue with my next point.” Scott mutters a quiet ‘thank God’.

John motions for Stiles to pick his chair back up and take a seat again, waiting impatiently before he goes on.

“Good. Now Derek, while I want you to join the raid this month, you and Scott won’t be going alone.”

“They won’t?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” John sends Stiles an annoyed glare, “I’m not a complete idiot. Braeden’s going with you. Think of her as a … chaperone, if you will.”

Derek’s more inclined to think of her as a babysitter, but he’ll take it.

Stiles, of course, doesn’t. Because apparently Derek just can’t catch a break. “Not that I don’t respect that decision, but I think Bono would be a better choice. At least he’ll be on his guard all the time.”

John raises an eyebrow. “And you think Braeden won’t be?”

“I mean she’s badass and all, but there’s only so much she can do in case Wolf-boy here decides to turn on the charm.”

Derek’s Wolf perks up, preening at the thought of Stiles calling him charming. He tells it to shut the hell up.

“You’d better pray Braeden doesn’t find out you said that.” John sighs. “But you do have a point. If anything, it’ll stop Bono from giving me the stink-eye for ‘letting the Wolves roam free’.” He rolls his eyes.

John finally turns back to him. “We can trust you, right?”

Derek’s brows furrow. “Yes, but –”

“But?”

“What exactly would be expected of me during this ‘raid’ you’re talking about?”

“Oh.” John rubs his chin. “Guess we haven’t had that talk yet, huh?”

“No, sir.”

The man sighs. “Okay, well, try to keep an open mind, alright?”

He frowns, but gestures for the man to continue anyway.

“As you can imagine, there are certain things we need to survive that we can’t provide for ourselves. Can’t exactly go hunting for toilet paper, you know? So, once a month we make a trip to a couple of towns and raid the storage supply of convenience stores, or sometimes from other places if we have the opportunity.

“We try to spread out the towns, to not create a traceable pattern. We don’t even want them to notice there are one or two things missing from their inventory if at all possible.” John shrugs. “It may be on the wrong side of moral, but we do what we have to in order to survive.”

He has to admit that it makes sense. It’s not like he ever thought of it before now, but of course they would have to get stuff like toilet paper from _somewhere._ John probably thinks that it will bother him, that they’re stealing from the shifters. But the truth is that he doesn’t. Not at all. He understands it perfectly. Like the man said, it’s integral to their survival. He commends them for it. It’s really damn brave to risk their lives like that every month.

“Of course, you also understand what a risk we’re taking by letting you do this,” the man continues. He meets his eyes, and he has the feeling that he’s put to the test, somehow. “So what do you say? Can I trust you to go out there without bringing my people in danger?”

He exhales slowly. Talk about a loaded question. If he wanted to, he could ditch Scott the moment they’re on the road and return to his family. Or contact them, at the very least. What would he tell them, though? The truth is out of the question, but his family will know when he’s lying. And he’s well aware that at least Laura won’t rest until she’s dragged the truth out of him.

Derek sighs. “All I can promise is that I won’t purposefully make my family aware of your location. Anything that happens because of other factors is out of my hands.”

John nods. “Fair enough.”

Scott explains what he did the last time he went out on a raid, how he can do most of it on his own, but that there are a few drawbacks that make doing it alone more difficult. “I only have two eyes, you know?”

“I could drive the get-away car?” Derek offers sheepishly, making John snort. Even Stiles’ mouth ticks up in one corner, though the boy is quick to school his expression. It makes him feel oddly pleased anyway.

John dismisses them shortly after, saying he’ll inform him of the details later. When they have left the office, Stiles pulls Derek back by the shoulder. Derek looks at the hand pointedly until he lets him go with a huff of annoyance.

“Look, my dad is putting a lot of trust in you with this, but I swear to God if you betray that trust and lead your people to our home … I will make your life a living hell.”

Their eyes lock again, and this time Derek doesn’t stop his from flashing. “Like I said. You don’t know me.”

 


	21. Stiles: The Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hi. Wow, it's been a while, huh? Just wanted to let you guys know that I will never abandon this story, even if it's slow-going at times (though I do hope to get some more chapters out soon). Thank you guys for the continued love and support, it really helps me to continue writing the story! So yeah, anyway. Happy Easter! *throws confetti*

They don’t make it general knowledge that Derek is joining the raid this month, aware that a lot of people will have reservations about it. They leave just before the A-22 alarm, making sure that most people have retreated to their rooms and won’t notice them leaving.

It also ensures that they can travel more inconspicuously and just take their chance at a 24 hour store, encountering less people than they would during the day. And since they’re going to be stealing stuff it has always been their belief that it’s better done at night anyway.

Some of the Hunters have been tasked with leading Scott, Derek and Bono outside. His dad is here, along with Braeden and Cole. Stiles isn’t technically supposed to be here, but everyone knows it’s futile to argue with him at this point. The thought makes him feel guilty, but it’s just . . . he worries. He likes to believe that they know and that’s why they let him stay, if only because it makes him feel better.

He knows Derek hasn’t interacted with Cole and Braeden much, but he knows he’s lucky they’re the ones here right now. Some of the others would be a lot less optimistic about their little expedition. Stiles has heard them complaining about it during the Hunt the past few days, and while his dad has tried to hide it, he knows they have been giving him a hard time about the situation.

His dad gives the all-clear for the outer door to open, and Stiles feels a little thrill as he watches the large, reinforced door of the bunker slide open. The sight of the dark tunnel behind it never fails to make his blood pump faster. As much as he loathes the idea of having to spend time with Derek in an enclosed space for a prolonged period of time, he kind of wishes he could go with them. It might be worth it, especially if it means he’ll finally see what’s _out there_ , beyond their borders.

There’s movement around him and he shakes himself, focussing on the present. Right before they enter the tunnel, Scott and Derek turn their heads in sync. It’s both creepy and kind of amusing. Stiles frowns when he catches the sound of fast-approaching footsteps, too light to be those of an adult. He turns his head, half-aware that the others are doing the same now, and frowns harder when Holly runs up to Derek.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” The Wolf raises an eyebrow.

She makes a face. “You’re not my dad.”

Stiles snickers, the sound escaping him before he can catch it. Derek rolls his eyes – Stiles would almost say fondly – and squats down to her level. Holly pokes him in the chest.

“You’d better get back without any trouble, mister.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She blinks, narrows her eyes. “Not good enough.”

He sees Derek bite back a smile. He sighs and holds out his pinkie-finger. “Pinkie-promise.”

Well there’s something he never thought he’d hear the Wolf say. To make matters worse, Holly’s face breaks out into a blinding smile. She hooks her pinkie around Derek’s and shakes it, nodding appreciatively.

“Perfect.”

“Glad I have your approval.” He nods. “Now, I have to go.” Derek stands back up and makes a move to leave for real this time. Stiles is both anxious for him to stay and to finally see him leave. It’s annoying.

“Derek?” Holly asks, making the Wolf turn around again. Damn it.

Stiles doesn’t know which of them is more surprised when the girl wraps her arms around Derek’s waist in a hug.

The guy seems too stunned to move and she lets go, waving shyly and running back the way she came.

“Huh,” hid dad hums. “Would you look at that.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles watches Scott, Derek and Bono disappear through the tunnel, a feeling of unease settling over him. He crosses his arms, suppressing a wince when his teeth gnash together. It’s too unpredictable. Scott he trusts, but he can’t get a read on Derek. There seem to be enough people who are willing to give him the benefit of the doubt at this point and some apparently like or even trust him, but he can’t. There are too many variables at play here, too many things he can’t control, and he doesn’t like it.

A hand falls on his shoulder and he turns around, meeting his dad’s eyes. “Come on, kiddo.”

Stiles sighs, but wills his body to walk away from the tunnel. Whatever happens, happens. It’s too late for him to do anything about it now, so he’ll just have to find a way to deal with it.

He goes to bed, but ends up looking at the ceiling, too keyed up and worried to sleep yet. He can’t shake the feeling that this is all going to go terribly wrong somehow. Scott may not think that the shifter population is actively on the lookout for Derek, but Stiles is positive that some people are. He may not be a Wolf, but he recognizes the importance of family. Of _pack_. Of course they’re going to be looking for the guy.

And that’s assuming Derek doesn’t turn his back on them and give their secret away. He said he wouldn’t, sure, but come on. Dude must be desperate to get back to his family at this point. Right? It would be so easy for him too, to make sure he gets recognized. Bono may be there, but there’s only so much he can do against a bunch of shifters.

And what if Derek decides to kill them himself? He grew up with the teeth and the claws, he must know how to use them. Stiles never really got that killer-vibe from the guy, but still. He _could._

No matter what happens, things are about to change, and it will all start the moment Scott and the others return from the raid. He huffs, turning on his side to try and find a more comfy position to sleep in. He hates waiting.

 

* * *

 

 

“Any news yet?”

Stiles slumps down into one of the chairs in the control room, spinning it so he’s facing Cole and Braeden. The atmosphere is tense, and he can tell some of them have been here all night.

“Nothing yet, but we do have a GPS signal. The car is moving.”

He’s willing to bet that no one told Derek about that. Hell, Scott might not even be aware of it. He rolls the chair closer, watching the screen over Cole’s shoulder.

“So where are they now?”

Braeden shrugs. “Right where they should be.”

Morris scoffs, fingers tapping an off-beat rhythm on the table he’s seated at. “Doesn’t mean much.”

Braeden rolls her eyes, turning back to the screen. “Regardless, they should be heading back soon.”

‘Should’ being the operative word. He shares a look with Morris. None of the information makes him any less anxious, either. He wants to know what’s actually going on. The car may be moving, but that doesn’t mean anything. Derek could’ve done God knows what and there’s no way for them to know unless the car drives out of their usual reading range or he shows back up without Scott and Bono.

Cole sighs and calls his name. “Worrying isn’t going to help anything, buddy. It’s out of our hands now.”

He huffs. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

 

* * *

 

 

The kitchen is almost empty when he gets there. It must be later than he thought it was. He walks up to Boyd, who is the only Cook left and who looks like he’s in the middle of cleaning up breakfast.

“Am I too late for breakfast?” he asks, trying not to feel sheepish. He had a lot on his mind this morning, so sue him.

Boyd shakes his head with a longsuffering sigh, but plates up some leftovers for him all the same.

“Thanks dude.” He reaches out for the plate, but Boyd tugs the plate back before he can grab it. They stare at each other for a moment, but Stiles is unable to handle it for long, so he breaks. “What?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Such a simple question, yet so unexpected. He keeps forgetting that although he doesn’t like Boyd’s group of friends much, Boyd is actually a pretty decent guy. Most of the time, he really doesn’t get why he chooses to hang out with Erica and Jackson, of all people. Lydia sure, she’s . . . well, she’s Lydia. But those other two? Not a fan.

Remembering he’s expected to answer, he gives a quick nod. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Why do you keep giving Derek such a hard time?”

Wow. Okay. Again, not what he was expecting. But that’s right, Derek seems to have become a part of their little posse as well. Guess that makes sense, since he’s rooming with Boyd and all. Doesn’t give him the right to ask invasive questions, though.

“No offense, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Boyd nods. “Fair enough. I just think you should try to look past your prejudices and give him a chance. He’s a good guy.”

He scoffs. “How would you know? He could be fooling all of us. In fact, he could be spilling our secret as we speak.”

The guy just shrugs. “Maybe. But unlike some of us, I actually talk with him. If he’s faking it, he’s doing a pretty good job. I don’t know, he seems genuinely interested in us and our story.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious?” Stiles flails. Because really, if you’d ask him that’s a major red flag, right there.

Boyd hums and goes back to cleaning. “No. I mean, I get why you would see it that way, but once he got over the whole being held hostage thing –,” Stiles can’t see, but he’s pretty sure the guy is rolling his eyes, “Derek actually seemed excited about humans still existing.”

“Excited?” Stiles laughs, incredulous. “Excited to force the last of us into shifters, probably.”

“Really, Stiles?”

“Yes! Dude, can’t you see? This is why we’re here! It’s not like we chose to go underground. We literally had no other choice if we wanted to stay human. We have zero chance of living our lives out there.” He huffs. “So yes, I give Derek a hard time. Hell, he should consider himself lucky that he isn’t being treated worse, because his family is the reason that we’re fucking stuck here.”

Boyd puts down the dishtowel he’d been holding. “I’m not saying that isn’t true. You’re right. But Derek was born into that world. Into that _family_. It’s his legacy. Do you really think they would have taught him anything about our side of the story?”

Stiles crosses his arms. “Maybe not. But I think assuming everyone would jump at the chance to convert to Wolf-ism is kind of naïve.”

Boyd nods. “Fair enough. But his family is responsible for sending Project 6 in motion, and is one of the pillars of society now. All he’s ever known is that it’s something to be proud of. I think he’s scared to even entertain the idea that his family could be responsible for so much suffering.

“We both know that’s not an excuse, Boyd.”

“It’s not.” Boyd sighs. “Look, he can’t change his family, or the way he was raised. He couldn’t do anything before, because he didn’t know there was anything to _be_ done. But he knows now. And he may be able to do something for us now, or in the future. But if we want him to do that, we’ve got to give him a chance.”

It’s like being dunked in ice water.

Boyd picks the dishtowel back up and returns to his job, all casual, like he didn’t just make a huge dent in Stiles’ carefully constructed wall between him and everything _Hale_. Asshole.

“Sure. Whatever.”

The guy shrugs. “Just something to think about.”

 

 


End file.
